The Phantom and The Magician
by Neil Troon
Summary: Worlds collide as the Opera Ghost gains an accomplice, a witch from the Harry Potter universe. The Phantom of the Opera with a twist as the witch from the 21st century arrives in 19th century France. Incorporating elements from the Leroux novel, ALW musical/2004 film, and the 1990 film with Charles Dance. { currently undergoing major revisions }
1. The Marble Lair

It began with a ravaging rip in the ceiling. Which was accompanied by a chilling wail as a body fell through and crumpled in a heap on the floor. The smooth piano music came to an abrupt end. The pianist rose slowly from the bench and peered over at what had transpired before him.

His entire clothing was black, as dark as the sky at midnight. His suit consisted of slacks, a vest, a coat that was typically worn by an orchestra conductor, complete with the coattails too. His long black cape was draped over the coat hanger, the cape cascaded down off his frame when it was worn by him. The silk spilled off his shoulders and appeared to be made of water by the way it rippled. The underside of it had a slightly lighter black color variation. It caught faint rays of light and produced a minuscule shimmer and glow. The other side had captured the stars within the fabric. Flowing sheen across the shoulders and down the spine were traces of reflective material that were viewed as tiny gems of light. Reaching down the sides it glimmered too. The folds of his coat also held the light of stars. Resting on top of the rack was his black fedora, a silky black ribbon was wrapped around it. His only other color was white of his long sleeved dress shirt underneath and his small white bow tie. And the porcelain mask could not be forgotten.

The white mask worn on the right side of his face was not a mere decoration. It was perfectly crafted to every feature. The curve of his brow, the scale of his forehead, the size of his eye, the form of his nose, the shape of his cheek, and the slant of his jaw. Everything about it was tuned to his features. The precision of the craftsmanship was without question a work of art. In some light it appeared bone white, others it was the color of snowfall. It even was shown with a steely silver hue to it. The dim light portrayed it as a metallic variation.

He stood, with his left hand resting on the edge of his magnificent black grand piano, and let his gaze rest on the mass that had fallen in the center of the room. The piercing cry shattered the music of the piano. The strident shriek tore him from his composition. There was an icy tone as the body crashed onto the dark marble floor below.

With silent steps he inched closer. His paces were wary and tentative, as if he would crack the floor beneath him. The space between him and the body drew to a slow close. The faint light from the fire burning on the far side of the room cast an ember glow. He did not shy away or flinch from what he saw, not even when it moved. The body toppled over and was lying face up. He saw that it was a young female.

She lay there still as stone. Her dark brown hair had no curls and was fanned out to the side like the wing of a bird. Her eyes were closed and her face was peaceful like she was asleep. One arm was flung up by her head the other was reaching off to the side for a broom. The broom did not look to very adequate for its job, it came to a point rather then a flat end. The hand by her head was clutching a long slender stick. Further examination revealed it to have intricate detail. Her clothing was a peculiar matter. She was wearing robes. The first was dark forest green in color, the outer and heavier one was black. She wore a charcoal grey wool blouse under her robes and dark trousers in a fashion he had never seen before. Not to mention that typically only males wore such things. She wore rich brown chestnut boots with a small heel. They looked vaguely like the ones equestrians used for English riding.

After he had a brief look at her, he reached down to feel for a pulse. His fingers brushed on her neck with the weight of a feather. Her skin was cold and he felt the faintest of pulses. He did not think she was going to last. She drew no breath at all while he watched her. The fall had surely caused substantial damage to her, yet not enough to grant her a quick death. She was to have an agonizingly painful one, if she could feel anything at all. The force of the impact had most likely broken bones and her skull.

He gingerly reached his hands to lift her head, he did not worry about causing spinal damage for he had felt no swelling, and feel for any gashes. He was greatly surprised to feel it was all intact. His fingers laced through her hair searching for any signs of injury and none were discovered. He carefully lowered her head back down to rest. His hands gracefully cupped the sides of her face, so gently as if she were to crack if held too tight. He focused his attention to her eyes next. They were still closed. He delicately lifted the lid of her left eye open. It was green in color but glossed over. He held it open as he felt again for a pulse with his other hand. He felt none. Mournfully he slid her eye back to a close. The lid was almost shut when she snapped to attention.

Both of her eyes flashed open and were wild. Her mouth gaped open in a desperate gasp. A hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his coat, the broom left aside. All of this happened in the blink of his eyes. Before he could even react she was on her knees and pushing him backwards. She straddled him and her robe draped over them. Her knees held to both sides of his rib cage. Her fist was still clutching his coat and her other hand had her stick at his throat.

"Who are you?" She asked him. The sound of her voice reminded him of the hautbois instrument.

There was no opportunity for him to respond or surge against her grip on him because she slumped down onto him. Her whole body went lax and she released his coat and her stick. She came to rest with her head on his shoulder and once more entered her dormant state. However, this time she was warm to the touch and had a moderate heartbeat pattern. He was able to slither out from underneath her and gathered that she was sleeping. Her deep breathing continued as he carried her to the only room with a bed. He placed her on the soft sheets and removed her boots. He drew the blankets over her shoulders and tucked her into his own bed.

"Bonne nuit, mademoiselle, et de beaux rêves." He whispered to her as he drew the drapes to a close and silently left his room. He left with his mind running rampant with the thoughts of the mysterious turn of events unraveling before him.


	2. The Masked Man

She awoke from her slumber with a start. She bolted upright in the plush bed, her eyes scanning over the scene before her. Her surroundings struck her with a foreign sense and her sight saw nothing familiar.

The luxurious design and furnishing captured her attention. Her green eyes glanced at each of the numerous gold candelabras, the candle pegs ranged from three to as many as nine. They were placed thoroughly, there was no dark patch in view. She wondered why there were no electrical lights, surely in the first score of the twenty first century everyone had followed in the transition. The owner of this estate was unquestionably one of the wealthy personnel. The opulent bed in which she rested on was a strong indication of it.

The bedding consisted of one white silk sheet, a thicker red velvet sheet, and a black satin comforter. She did not recall going to rest in this lavishing space. She could not bring to mind any recent events, especially none pertaining to how she came to be here. She remembered that she was a student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and she was in her seventh and final year. Everything about her life she could recall, but she had no memory of how and why she was in the bedroom of someone else.

Nothing extraordinaire was occurring for her, other then the ovbious. She wore the same clothes she last had any recollection of and nothing was causing her pain. She rose from the bed and gazed across to the concealed opening in the wall. It had not been noticeable from where she lay. She returned the sheets to their original state. The bed looked as if it had never had a trace of her presence. She slid back into her boots and ambled over the palatial carpets and glossy floor.

She paced quietly as she moved through the corridor. The only sound was her heels coming in contact with the hard surface. Her sauntering came to a stall as she was brought to a crossroads. The passage way she was in continued on ahead of her and it diverted to the left. The wall spanning along on her right had the texture of a cave. It was uneven and carried no pattern. The pathway to her left held captive of her thoughts for there was faint interludes of music to be heard. She placed her steps lightly as she walked this new path.

The music in time grew louder still it sounded just around the corner. The corridor she had stepped into contained no other conjunctions, it led her to another chamber room. The music was at its peak and she moved to draw her wand. But to her surprise she did not find it in her robe pocket. Sudden realization came upon her and she wondered where her broomstick was. Not to mention her small handbag that had an undetectable extension charm place on it. She was upset with the loss of her wand, preferably only a temporary separation. Like several other witches and wizards she had her wand since her eleventh birthday. Her's was fourteen inches in length with a core of Dragon Heartstrings. The wood was from a Yew tree and it was unyielding in its pliancy.

She closed her eyes and calmed her mind before setting foot in the chamber. She opened her eyes as she rounded the corner and found that the music had vanished. Heedfully she dived further into the room. Observing the chamber became difficult as the room was engulfed in darkness. The candles flickered out and it grew very cold. Her breath exhaled into a brief mist as she spun around to see nothing from where she came. The open space in which she had entered from disappeared. Everything ceased to be visible. She froze and listened intently. There was another in the chamber room.

"Ah, the young Magician has stirred at long last." A cold sardonic voice spoke. She had never been called a magician before, curiosity swept through her as to what prompted this. "Have you come to reunite with the living? Or perhaps join the dead is more appropriate." The voice carried on. She could not tell the source of whence it came. One sentence sounded far off to the left of her, yet another was out of her reach on the right. The last sentence was spoken right behind her, causing her to turn her head to the right slightly. Her shoulders did not sway, only the minor tilt of her head. The voice noticed her movement regardless. "I am over here, Magician." Sounding directly in the darkness in front of her. "No? Maybe over here." Was heard below her down by her footwear.

"Who are you?" She asked, raising the question. She needed to know if this was a fellow wizard.

"Is that all you are capable of asking?" He asked, she could hear the masculine of his voice. It was dripping with an insulting tone. She doubted that is could be a muggle, the use of ventriloquism was far too impressive to be a regular human. She had almost pinpointed the origin of the voice, she only need to continue their rather odd conversation.

"Are you incapable of answering?" She lashed back at him. Fear knew no place within her. Her tone was steely and steady. She was unaware that she had previously poised him with the same exact question earlier.

"I am known by many names such as- The Opera Ghost, The Angel of Music, and The Phantom of the Opera!" He thundered throughout the chamber. She turned to her left, and dashed forward. She had found where the mysterious man was concealing himself. She became caught in his fierce gaze as they made unexpected eye contact. The luminous orbs flashed vividly at her. Not familiar with the dark chamber she stumbled and fell to the floor as a rope was flung around her.

She thrashed about in futile attempts to free herself. The rope was bond tighter as it constricted around her arms, plastering them to her side. The lost of her balance prevented her from reaching a standing position. The light returned to the room as candle lit themselves.

"You are proving to be quite cumbersome." He spoke to her, as he moved closer she saw him to be a rather sumptuous man. His long cape gave the impression of a man with a large physique. "Your incommodious behavior is not appreciated." He added as he stood over her flailing mass. His voice sounded exasperated, but he showed no physical signs of it. 

"My dearest apologizes." She said. "I did not realize tying me up was proving to be out of your control." She spat at him. A scowl was strewn across her face. The lighting was almost at a normal level. She could see he only wore black, his hat lying upon his head hid combed dark hair. The right side of his face was concealed by a mask.

"Quite the contrary, little Magician, I expected someone of your grandeur to elude me temporarily and quite frankly impress me." He spoke in a sharp and critiquing tongue. She had no idea as to what she had done to him that reasoned with his expectations. "Would you be so kind as to tell me what you are called?" He asked, in a mockingly nice tone. He crouched down so that they were closer to eye level with one another.

"Lindsay." She muttered under her breath.

"Come, come, now! I told you mine, do not turn shy now." He commanded.

"Lindsay Durham." She spoke clearly with confidence. Her eyes became transfixed as she looked at his.

"Excellent." He said with approval. "Now, Miss Durham, will you please inform me of how you came to enter my domain?"


	3. Beneath Beauty

To say Lindsay was baffled was an understatement, she was utterly bewildered. This perplexing situation was completely unheard of to her. She had no inkling of what domain she was in, let alone who he was. Though he had given her some of his apparent aliases, the only fact she could conclude was that this man was from France. His accent was of French nature and she thought his English was exceptionally well spoken.

"You have yet answer my question, girl." He said. Lindsay noticed the change in what he called her.

"I am not aware of where your domain is." She said slowly. "Are we in London?" She asked. Her question was followed by a high hair raising laugh. Lindsay looked up at him once more and staring back at her. She was forming all sorts of theories in her head about his identity. She did not feel that he was a vampire, there were no fangs sprouting from his mouth. Lindsay rejected the idea that he was a wizard, for he held no wand.

"We are beneath the Opéra House in Paris, France, little Magician." He stated for her. Why she thought they were in London was beyond him. Her accent was that of a native Parisian. He fashioned his own conclusion that she must be one of the dancers from the Opéra. Though he did not recall seeing her before now, she could be a new ballerina perhaps.

"What is your real name?" Lindsay asked, she cared not for his fantasy names. She carried no common courtesy in the conversation, she dismissed that when he bound her with the rope.

He laughed again before responding. "Your fellow French ballet rats have failed to enlighten you with the stories of the Opéra Ghost." He said.

"I am no ballet member, nor a magician. And I am certainly not French." She interjected at him. Both of them were attempting to discover the true identity of the other.

"Then what are you?" He pressed, he was beginning to tire of their exchange which continued in circles.

"Return my wand to me and we shall see." said Lindsay with hostility.

"Ah, so you are a Magician after all."

Lindsay had been growing increasingly more and more frustrated with the discussion. She needed to gain the high ground in the circumstance. Using non verbal and wandless magic she cast the Incarcerous Spell.

The rope constricting her immediately loosened and turned on the man. It wrapped around his frame and with a flourish of her hand she also cast the Full Body-Bind Curse. With the curse only his eyes were free to move, yet they held still, fixated on her.

"Now that's better, isn't it, Angel." Lindsay hissed at him. She stood less then a foot away from him as she spoke. "Let us see what lies beneath your mask..." She rose a hand slowly and hesitated. His eyes had hardened and were cold. Lindsay had no intention of removing his mask. She merely wanted to see to what extent it mattered to him. Lindsay wanted him to know that she was serious and not some lost ballerina. "If I release you from the spells will you return my possessions to me? Blink once for yes." Lindsay asked. Slowly but surely he responded with the closing of his eyes.

With a wave of her hand the spells diminished and faded away. The rope slacked and fell to his feet and he regained the ability to move. He breathed in deeply.

"Thank you mademoiselle." He said as he rubbed his wrists. Her eyes narrowed, still waiting. She watched as he stepped over to a cabinet, eyeing him warily. "Your skills in deception are exquisite," he said opening the door. "who is your teacher?" he asked as he reached inside.

"I have no teacher." Lindsay responded. She definitely knew he was not a wizard, he would have as if she attended Hogwarts or Beauxbatons.

"No? You mean to tell me that you taught yourself?" He asked turning away from the cabinet.

"Yes, I did." Lindsay lied. She had several professors at Hogwarts. "I cannot do very much, though. Just a few little things." Another lie. Lindsay was the most advanced witch in the whole school, something that she did not prefer to boast about.

He walked towards her holding her wand, bag, and broomstick. The small leather bag matched her boots in color. Her Firebolt appeared unscathed and her wand was in order. Lindsay did not go so far to check the contents of her handbag, it would reveal that she was not a ventriloquist but actually a witch instead. If her broomstick had not already shown that. She also did not think he was one to go rummaging through the belongings of others. Lindsay thanked him for returning her items.

"If you do not mind my question, why are you down here, as you said 'Beneath the Opéra House'?" She asked him.

He thought how he could ask her the very same question. He was intently curious as to how and why she had came. It was becoming quite clear that she truly had no idea who he was and the mystery surrounding his presence at the Opéra "This is my realm, sweet music's throne." He spoke to her. There was something peculiar about her, she did not recoil away from him or flinch in the slightest. She was not afraid of being in his presence. He had never experienced this before with someone of her age. Madame Giry was the only other person in the world who did not shy away from him, until he met Lindsay on this day. "And may I ask why you have come here?" He questioned.

"I awoke in a strange bed, in a foreign land, and with no memory of how I came to be here." She answered honestly. Lindsay noticed how they both were behaving much more appropriately to one another, practically civil. "Was that you playing the organ earlier?" She asked.

"Yes, what were your thoughts on it?" He asked curiously. Perhaps she was one of the Opéra s musicians instead. The orchestra pit was currently going through a small changing. The clarinetist was moving to Germany and one of the violinists was returning home to southern France.

"I thought it was marvelous." Lindsay said with a genuine smile. She was musically inclined, she played two double reed instruments and the piano. "It vaguely reminded me of _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_. The pedal tones are my favorite."

He perked up slightly at her naming of one of Bach's pieces. He had one of the original manuscripts from the 1833 publication. It was the exact one that the great Bach had composed himself, not edited in anyway, shape, or form.

"Does the young Magician play?" He asked. Her eyes lit up, and she gave a faint nod. Lindsay rarely had the opportunity to play on a real organ, not a synthesizer. She began to raise the question if she may play, but he was already ahead and gestured for her to.

She set her things down and gracefully sat down at the bench. Her eyes flashed over the sheet music before her and she began to play at around measure fifty. Her playing was astonishing, far beyond what he thought she was capable of playing at. She continued on for twenty or so measures before ceasing.

"This looks like one of the original scores." She said cautiously. As if she believed it but her voice did not. "How did you come by one of these?" She asked turning to face him, still sitting on the organ bench.

He was perplexed at her wonder, "It has yet to even be fifty years since it first dawned..." He said slowly.

"Fifty years?" Lindsay said oddly. "What year is it currently?"

"Why, it's 1881." He replied.

"Oh no..." Lindsay echoed. Not only was she in a foreign country, but she was 142 years in the past as well.


	4. The Auction and The Overture

He watched her with curious eyes. His interest was further peaked as she proclaimed her lack of understanding for what was happening. He stood silently and observed as she carried on arguing with herself about how she came to his lair. "Portkeys do not take you back in time!" She exclaimed, "they just take you somewhere else, Time-Turners only return you back five hours at the most..." She cried, unsure of anything. Lindsay had mentally done the calculations, a Time-Turner would have to be wound back a record amount of 1,270,200 times. That was not even factoring in the added Leap Years days.

He was not grasping any sense of what she was ranting about. The one thing he did understand was that she was not a mere humble ventriloquist as claimed to be. No, she was much more then _that_. She continued on about things he had never heard of. The thought had crossed his mind that perhaps she really had no recollection of how she came to be. It appeared that she had no memory of her initial arrival and he was still interested in how she survived such a fall unscratched.

Her long-winded speech came to an abrupt end when she made yet again unexpected eye contact with him. She froze mid sentence and she looked at him.

"How may I get to the stage from here?" She asked him, a complete change in her demeanor which had been growing increasingly frantic. Now she was calm and steady.

He motioned to the lake behind her and the gate. "Proceeding through there will lead you through the lake and to a long staircase, followed by a maze of secret passage ways-" he was cut off as she swung a leg over her broomstick and bolted through the gate that opened promptly. He had not touched the lever which was require to open it, it just rose for her. He watched as she flew down the tunnel over the water with wide eyes.

He did not bother with the boat to pursue her, it would be no where near fast enough to catch up. Instead he hurried to one of his other hidden passage ways that laced throughout the catacombs of the Opéra House.

Her Firebolt swept over the water below at high racing speeds. She had no fear in allowing him to see this specter of magic, she could fix his memory later to forget her. Lindsay had a growing suspicion of which Opéra House in particular she had come to encounter. She glided up the spiraling stairs and came to the twisting labyrinth before her. Lindsay held her wand out in front of her as she slowed down to locate the stage. She closed her eyes and focused. Her mind thought only of the place as she guided the broom in the direction. She found the auditorium and entered from a panel in the wall from one of the boxes. In a swift movement she dismounted her broom and stood at the edge of the railing. Lindsay looked out over the grand auditorium and stage before leaping over the rail.

She floated gently instead of plummeting to the floor below. Lindsay set her broom to rest against one of the rows of chairs and looped the strap on the small handbag over the handle.

He was already waiting for her. His hiding place was in the rotunda up by the chandelier. The passage way he used was a direct route to the top of the ceiling. He had arrived before her and watched as she appeared in Box Five, something he found odd. Out of all the openings that resulted in or around the auditorium and stage she discovered that one.

He watched in silent astonishment as she hovered on her broomstick before climbing over the edge of the box. Much to his overall surprise she cascaded down instead of falling. He wondered why seeing the stage was of such great importance to her. It was a glorious and spectacular view but she had raised several impossible things. For one she flew on a broom like the fairy tales, she had managed to ensnare him in bondage that was not breakable, she had fallen from significant height now twice while sustaining no injuries, and the most bewildering of all; she had not cowered in his presence or fled in fear.

Lindsay found herself staring at the orchestra pit. She strode over to it, slowly. She could hear faint whispers of voices, they rolled off the walls with echoes.

"...Persian robes..." sounded a distant voice. She heard a short interlude of what she guessed to be a music box.

Lindsay entered the pit and cast her head towards the stage. Her hearing was straining to make out what was being said. There was no one else in the hall, other then the man dressed in black. He had appeared down on the ground floor. She saw no one on the stage yet that was where she heard voice coming from.

"...collector's piece indeed..." whispered a man. Lindsay looked back to him, who wore a mask, but he was not speaking. Instead he was standing near the organ, watching her closely.

"...666 then, a chandelier in pieces..." Lindsay drew closer to the edge of the stage, words were becoming clear, the voices taking on fuller sounds. An ominous instrument began to play. It was made out to be an uncommon cross between a vibraphone and a celesta. Lindsay could not be certain what it was, but it sounded near to her ears.

"...strange affair of The Phantom of the Opera, a mystery never fully explained..." spoke a second man's voice. The instrument played on and she continued gazing up on the stage. She recognized the name, he had spoken it earlier.

"...frighten away the Ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination? Gentlemen."

Powerful and most definitely loud chords entered, as if on command. Lindsay snapped her head in a turn to see him playing away on the organ. It was the same song he had been playing prior to her intrusion of an entrance. The notes plummeted downwards in chromatic steps, yet they soared back to the original pitches before repeating the opening line. Running eighth note lines appeared and flew up the keys at his will. This was only the opening seconds and some of his composition. He went further in his work, continuing on with faster treble lines and strong bass ones. Her musical ear sought out the bass lines as the melody and the higher notes as flourishes and highlights.

Lindsay's attention was torn from his music to herself. Her clothing began to glow and shimmer. She gasped as it started to engulf her. The golden caramel light swirled around her as she watched in amaze for it was not her magic that conjured this. Lindsay spun around to see the organ, she realized that the magic was reacting to his playing. His notes were moving in perfect sync with the magical light. It pulsed and flared with his actions, her wizarding robes were replaced with Victorian era style clothing.

A floor length dress arose, black in color with dark royal purple accents. The collar had frilly ruffles with purple lace around the edges. The fabric rolled along her shoulder and down to her forearm. It ended at her elbow and tiered off in a wavy drape. The same lace was around the ends of the sleeves. In cross lining fashion the lace turned to silk across her chest. The crossing silk held the outer layer of the dress which had purple hues embedded into it. The front of the inner dress swayed back and forth with the tiered and frilly ruffles. The purple color accented the black dress beautifully. It was mysterious and luring as the varying degrees of light brought out the different accents. The glow faded away and Lindsay noticed the presence of something on her chest.

A black Time-Turner hung from a chain around her neck. Lindsay was dumbfounded as to how it found its way there, not to mention she had never seen or even heard of a black one. There were only gold ones with white sand in them, this one had silver sand in its case.

His music reached its conclusion as she stared down at the necklace. He had watched in awe as her drastic change in appearance ensued. The finished product was a stunning change. Her hair was done up fashionably with glossy pins holding it in place. He gathered from her expression that she was not accustom to degree of dress up. From what he saw earlier of her wearing trousers he found no difficulty in believing it. She looked over at him when he conversed with her.

"Miss Durham," he said. "would you kindly explain to me just what exactly you are?"


	5. The Managers

Lindsay had been fully prepared to explain to him that she was not a ventriloquist, had it not been for the entrance of another. A man in a black coat and slacks entered the auditorium. He wore a a vest with patterned small silver lines. A matching cravat was around his neck with a gold pin over a white dress shirt. Dangling from his vest she could see the gold chain of a pocket watch.

The new entry did not appear to notice Lindsay. He was preoccupied with his own mind. She turned to ask the man in the mask who the new comer was but he had vanished. He was no where by the organ and no longer seemed to be in the auditorium at all.

"It's been a good run, my dear." The new man spoke. Lindsay turned her head slowly to look at him. He was not speaking to her, instead he was conversing with the whole room. His voice sounded a bit sad, but undeniably tired too. The exhaust and exasperation was clearly defined in his slow remorseful words.

"The new managers will be here this afternoon and I trust they will treat you with the respect you deserve." He continued on. He turned away from Lindsay's direction and she seized the opportunity. She summoned gloves from her bag as well as transfiguring her broom into an umbrella and her small bag into a hat. Her black gloves were magically altered to reach her elbows instead of her wrists.

Lindsay was not aware of many different options for action that guaranteed a successful escape. She could Disapperate to anywhere else, the laws of underage magic and preforming it in the presences of Muggles did not seem to apply here. Lindsay could leave the auditorium swiftly and hope that she was not seen. She could even continue to stand where she was and wait for something else to happen. If she was really daring she could approach the man if it suited her.

She strode quietly over the carpet, heading for side door on house right, stage left. Lindsay held the umbrella by the handle and did not allow anything to make a sound as she moved. Her paces were slower then normal so that her dress would not make unnecessary noise. She was just barely within an arm's reach of her escape when the man turned around.

His desire to view the stage brought him to notice the dark figure moving. At first, conditioned by many years of unnatural circumstances, he believed he was seeing the famous Opéra Ghost. The dark being who had plagued the theater for years, whether it was a fallen set piece, missing props, an abundance of notes, or even the resignation of previous managers. He immediately pushed that from his mind, it was a female. Yet there was something in the way she moved that brought to his mind the thought of the shadowy specter.

"Pardon moi, Mademoiselle." His voice was weathered down by the tasks and burdens of being a manager, and a sole one at that. "Pourqui es-tu ici?" He asked her.

Lindsay heard his question and paused before answering, he wanted to know why she was there. "Monsieur, I am here to see the Opera House." She responded firmly.

"Oui, bien sûr. J'attendre que vous aimeriez voir le directeur?" He asked with formal curiosity.

"Yes," she said, "are you the manager?"

"I am for the remaining hours of the morning, mademoiselle." He said, his voice still held on to the past, yet he was gratefully hopeful for the future after the day had ended. Realization struck Lindsay like the cacophony of waves in an ocean storm. She had seemingly developed the ability to fluently understand French, which made her curious as to if she was also speaking in it as well.

"Why, might I ask, monsieur?" Lindsay questioned politely. She did not think the manager was that old to be retiring or perhaps an assistant manager was being promoted.

"Mademoiselle, that explanation requires a bit of time." He said flatly. When there was no demurral on her behalf he unraveled the story of the previous managers of the Opéra House. "Originally when I first resided as a manager there were two others beside me. Monsieurs Debienne and Poligny, they were my closet friends." He paused, lost in the memory of the first time the three of them had entered the Opéra House. The days of the past were filled with the innocence of their youth and unsuspecting nature. Oh, how the times had changed. The single manager before them had not made any attempt to elucidate the new three in the mysterious element of their new profession. Had the previous events taken a different course some things might have been different.

His attention was drawn out of the sober reflections and placed in the auditorium once more. She was still waiting for the telling of his tale, most patiently he noticed. With a shallow sigh he continued on, the grave affairs entered and he found himself speaking about everything. All of the incidents which he longed to forget and banish forever from his mind came spilling out from his lips.

Lindsay was not by any means alarmed by the divulging one sided conversation occurring. She was quite persuasive, her House emblem was the serpent after all. The manager told her numerous haunting incidents of the Opéra House and she could clearly see why he was leaving the theater. His two previous friends and coworkers had already left the business, it was high time he did the same, before something really tragic happened.

She was captivated with the harrowing past of the theater. The manager told her how there was a perplexing being that presided over the Opéra House, hardly anyone had ever seen him and those who had never had more then a glimpse. With the exception of a stagehand named Joseph Buquet, he seemed to cross paths with the Ghost more then anyone else. Generally it was not anything too serious, merely a stage prop went astray. Occasionally it would be a list of demands, never forgetting to remind the manager of his salary, and every now and then it resulted in a cast member's sudden withdrawal from a production. The younger members, predominantly the ballerinas and chorus girls were most frightened by it, or him, anything in relation to the Opéra Ghost. The manager knew that everyone in the theater was disturbed by the strange things to various extents.

"Pardon me, monsieur, you have yet to say who the new managers are?" Lindsay said. She had gathered enough about the grave circumstances and was wanting to move back to the present moments.

"Oh yes, you are quite right. The new Managers will be here around noon and their names are Monsieurs Firmin and André. They previously worked in the junk business, you might have heard of their recent fortune." He explained to her. Lindsay could see gold letters on a white handkerchief which was tucked snugly into his vest pocket. It read Lefèvre, she assumed this was his sur name. "Now you'll have to pardon me this time mademoiselle, but I didn't catch your name earlier." He said, leading her to answer his question. Lindsay had never stated her name to him.

"Monsieur Lefèvre, je suis la Comtesse de Lyon."


	6. The Countess of Lyon

As it manifested within, Lindsay introduced herself with the false nobility rank. Monsieur Lefèvre eyes looked shock with recognition and would have tried to make a hasty recovery with a response if he was not interrupted by a horde of people rushing into the auditorium.

Several voices spoke all at once demanding an answer to their own individual questions. Their voices rose higher as they began to argue with each other as to who he should respond to first. Lindsay found no fault with Monsieur Lefèvre's reasons for leaving the Opéra House. This large crowd she assumed to be apart of the company of the Opéra House or some other department section.

They went at him with the air of animals seeking to peck and tear at the remains of a carcass. Vultures would fly high circles in the sky waiting for the prey to decay, this mob approached the manager like he was not fully dead. There was still some things to extract from him and slices to be put to use.

Two others entered after the gathered mass and looked significantly more dignified and responsible then the rest. They stood near the entrance doors while the others crowded around. Lindsay was well aware that it was not very wise to judge based on first impressions however, she did not show restraint in making observations. The two were comprised of a male who had a light grey frayed butterfly mustache, and a stern female who had an abundance of brown hair coiled around her head in a braid.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please!" Monsieur Lefèvre insisted. He held his hands up in a defensive fashion, as if to prove his innocence for the crime of not having immediate answers to the multiple questions that had been shouted at him. "Settle down, we are in the presence of good company." He said, finally the buzz of their frenzy fluttered out into a silent stand still.

With all of their eyes on her, Lindsay had to refrain from moving an inch. The slightest show of farouche would set them ablaze. Lindsay was reminded of how sharks can smell blood in the water from three miles away. Once false move on her part would end her time at the Opéra House. It was not that she was fearful of others, she knew very well that she could escape any situation they presented to her, but that she had no where else to go. It was becoming even more alarming that she was actually in Paris, France. If these people did not believe her newfound identity Lindsay would be left to her own devices and means of survival.

At Hogwarts she never declined a duel, unless it was a first year or something else petty. Other seventh years challenged her and she had yet to lose, the occasional fifth or sixth year would make attempts and never achieve anything. Lindsay had even been apart of duels where there were as many as four other students going against her alone.

"My lady," Monsieur Lefèvre said to her, "I ask that you forgive me for my earlier failure to recognize you." He said apologetically. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are graced with the presence of la Comtesse de Lyon." Monsieur Lefèvre introduced her formally to them. There were various cries and murmurs of 'Your Ladyship', 'Lady Lyon', and 'Comtesse' as they underwent bows or genuflects.

"It is a pleasure to be a patron of your esteemed Opéra House." Lindsay said with a smile. She neglected to use the word benefactor, patron was more common in French. Lindsay retained her smile as there was applause, no more doubt held residence in her mind. No one at Hogwarts would applaud her, and no one looked at her with the kind admiration that she was receiving now. She believed this grand venue to be the Palais Garnier. Lindsay knew it to be well known no matter which year she found herself in.

She knew that she could successfully imitate a patron of the Opéra House. It was high time that her family's wealth was put to good use. The exchange rate in the currencies ran from one Galleon to £4.97 (British Pound) and then to the French Franc of ₣59.55. Lindsay also spent her years prior to Hogwarts at a preforming arts school. She attended the finest, The London Conservatory of Preforming Arts, Lindsay had been apart of the preparatory division of the establishment. She had been a member of the symphony orchestra, ballet corps, and thespian society. The school had a small selection of triple threats, students who excelled in acting, singing, and dancing, Lindsay had not been among them. She had never ventured into the vocal performance aspect of the world. Not that she found no pleasure in it, quite the opposite, Lindsay rather enjoyed listening to operas, musicals, and choirs.

"Comtesse," Monsieur Lefèvre spoke. "your tour of the Opéra House will be implemented by Madame Giry, our choreographer and head of the ballet corps." He motioned with his right hand to the lady in the back who had entered later with the other male. He then turned to face the others. "Ladies and gentlemen, please, I urge you to continue on with your the rest of your daily duties. La Comtesse and Madame Giry will surely travel around to all the departments." Everyone else who was not Monsieur Lefèvre, Madame Giry, or Lindsay left the auditorium in various volumes. Several of them tried to catch one last glimpse of Lindsay before exiting.

Madame Giry greeted her with a welcoming demeanor. "Are you familiar with the opera _Hannibal_ , Comtesse?" She asked.

"A shame to say I am not." Lindsay responded. She had never heard of an opera called _Hannibal_. Since it was being preformed by the world renowned Opéra House she knew it had to be exquisite. Even in her own time period she had not heard of it, Lindsay grew quite curious as to why she had yet to encounter it before.

"Your Ladyship will have the opportunity to experience it this evening." Madame Giry said pleasantly.

Monsieur Lefèvre spoke after the two ladies had exchanged greetings. "Now, Comtesse, there is no other who knows the Opéra Populaire better then Madame Giry." For a small moment the ballet mistress's eyes glanced at the boxes off in the distance before refocusing on the manager. Lindsay was filled with interest as to where the Palais Garnier was if the Opéra Populaire had risen to take it's place. More uncertainty came forth with the alternate Opéra House and this unheard of opera.

"Shall we begin, Lady Lyon?" Madame Giry proposed as she moved to hold the auditorium door open for Lindsay.

She followed Madame Giry out of the auditorium and was presented with a marvelous sight. The Grand Foyer spanned out before her. Lindsay did not have long to admire it for Madame Giry was leading her down an equally great Grand Staircase. The staircase was in the shape of a large Y with round and curved edges. Lindsay felt that the interior of the Opéra House was filled with Baroque sumptuousness. The characteristics were rich with velvet, gold leaf, cherubim, and nymphs. Everything was in utter perfection, it was spectacular sight to behold.

Their tour began with the front of the Opéra House. Madame Giry showed her where the main entrance doors were as well as the ticket booth. While they were there Lindsay was introduced to the Box Office Director; Monsieur Moncharmin. He was in charge of all the Kitchen and Housekeeping staff (who also doubled as concierges).

Monsieur Moncharmin was an older gentlemen, average height and weight. His hair was laced with white and smoothed up and over his head. His eyes brows were thick like his mustache which came to the corners of his mouth. His side burns slid down the edge of his strong jaw line. His nose was prominent and formed straight down. He was all manners and polite when he interacted with Lindsay. She knew that she would never be used to this level of treatment.

They left Monsieur Moncharmin and his staff to see other sections of the Opéra House. As they walked Lindsay saw the playbill for the evening performance plastered to an easel. _  
_

_The_ _Opéra_ _Populaire presents_

 _Hannibal_

 _with La Carlotta Giudicelli  
_

Lindsay assumed that who ever Carlotta Giudicelli was that she was playing the lead role. Lindsay also noticed that it listed the date for the performance, Sunday September Fourth. She recalled that it had been December when she had last been at Hogwarts.

"Comtesse, we may resume our tour later today. For now would you be interested in attending this morning's rehearsal?" Madame Giry asked her.

"I would like nothing else." Lindsay said as Madame Giry led her to the stage. Some of the morning hours had passed by between the start of their tour. It was nearing mid day and Lindsay was struck with an ominous feeling that something momentous was going to occur in the Opéra House.


	7. Hannibal Rehearsal

The company of the Opéra House was in a state of complete commotion and disarray when Madame Giry and Lindsay entered. Lindsay wondered how they ever managed to preform such stunning productions with all of the ensuing chaos. She turned to look at the ballet instructor, Madame Giry's facial expression was riddled with disappointment and frustration, however, surprise was not found on her austere features.

"Is this how they always behave the day of a show, Madame?" Lindsay asked.

"Please Comtesse, there is nothing to worry about. They are simply nervous for tonight's performance." Madame Giry explained. She excused herself from the presence of Lindsay and approached the large cluster of the Opéra House members. They were in a swarming mass that had some from the cast, ensemble, and crew. Lindsay noticed that the ballet corps was absent from the hysteria crowd.

She walked away from the wings of the stage and saw the ballerinas and dancers warming up. Two barres were set up off to the side of the stage. They were not visible from the audience's perspective. The ones who watch the stage never see nor will ever know the extent of it, she thought. They will never know all the secrets of what occurs, and they would be shocked to know of all that happens behind closed curtains. Lindsay watched them as they began in first position with stretches.

Meanwhile, Madame Giry tapped her cane on the floor to gather the attention of the company. She refrained from raising her voice when calling for attention. The cast members would often feed off of the concerns and fears of each other which caused greater ones. Having the Opéra Ghost did not help them in this aspect. There were six directors of the Opéra House, they each had their fair share of dealing with the actions of the company. Monsieur Lefèvre the Manager, Madame Giry herself working as the Ballet Corps Instructor and Choreographer, Monsieur Reyer the Orchestra Conductor and Music Director, Monsieur Moncharmin the Box Office Director, Monsieur Baçon the Technical Director, and Monsieur Carriere the Stage Manager/Director.

"Please ladies and gentlemen, Monsieur Reyer will be here soon to begin the rehearsal with the orchestra." Madame Giry informed them. They were beginning to settle down now, Lindsay knew that it was easy for performers of any kind to get worked up before the show, but these people brought it to a whole new level. Understandably so, with all of the misfortunes they had come across during their time at the Opéra House.

"While we wait for him let us run through the opening scene lines." A man's voice spoke.

Lindsay turned to see a man in the latter half of his prime enter the stage. His hair was a faded sandy color, his side burns did not extent as far as Monsieur Moncharmin's did, the faint tan hair did not reach his ear lobe in length. He was above average height and appeared in an immaculate level of physical health. His eyes were a clear mix of blue and grey.

"Ah Monsieur Carriere," Madame Giry announced. She stepped around the company to hold Lindsay in her gaze. "My Lady, this is our stage director, Monsieur Gerard Carriere."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Lyon." He dipped his head in a respectful greeting to Lindsay. Monsieur Carriere turned back to the company. "Where is La Signora?" He asked. No one responded. "Has any one seen our prima donna, Carlotta Giudicelli?" He paused, "Do not tell me that you have all forgotten who she is?" Monsieur Carriere asked in disbelief.

A small girl in presumably the chorus spoke up. "I saw La Signora in her dressing room this morning." She had a thick brush stroke of blonde hair and a high voice that could be classified as a soprano.

"Thank you Georgette." Monsieur Carriere responded. "Now, has anyone seen Signor Piangi?"

"He was in the costume room last I saw." A teenage boy said. Lindsay had to look carefully to spot him from his inconspicuous place among the crowd. Monsieur Carriere thanked him as Ambroise, and he was a member of the baritones.

"Regardless of their absence, shall we begin with the start of the show?" He said. With an nod of approval from Madame Giry he continued. "Places please everyone!" Monsieur Carriere instructed.

The rehearsal commenced pleasantly, Lindsay watched from the side beside Madame Giry. Monsieur Carriere placed himself in the orchestra pit for optimum viewing. He wanted to be certain everyone knew how they moved about the stage and encase he was needed to whisper line cues. Fortunately enough everything went pleasantly. Minor problematic situations arose but they were quickly corrected. During the evening performance he would be watching from the wings of the stage, perhaps for the first few shows. After that he would join some of his fellow faculty in the auditorium boxes.

A solid half and hour into the rehearsal was when the prima donna graced the entire auditorium with her presence. La Carlotta Giudicelli was an incredulously loud woman. Lindsay was well aware that as a singer of opera you needed to project your voice but even when she spoke it was unnaturally boisterous. Lindsay was unsure as to the manner of her height, whether the multitude of it was from the tall heels she wore or if it was natural. Her hair was also plentiful in length and shady black. Her clothing was also interesting, Lindsay could not make any observation other then that Carlotta was already in costume and huge sums of make-up.

Upon her arrival Monsieur Carriere sent the rest of the company to change into their costumes. During the break time he created Carlotta began to warm up her voice. There were three people, two ladies and one gentleman, who attended to her. Lindsay saw them alter her costume in various ways, make adjustments to her face and hair, and often use some sort of mouth spray on her. Lindsay thought that Signor Piangi, who had entered with his fellow Italian, was not as vain as the prima donna.

Ubaldo Piangi was the lead tenor as Carlotta was the lead soprano. Lindsay saw them as two sides to the same coin. Simply gender counterparts to each other with variations in their personalities. His eyes were bright green in color and he too appeared in full costume for _Hannibal_.

Fifteen minutes after the leading soprano and tenor entered the stage was when the orchestra made their debut. Monsieur Reyer led them to the pit at the very front of the stage and was questioned by Monsieur Carriere for his late arrival. It was revealed that the conductor had received a note that morning presumably from the stage director what rehearsal was to commence at a quarter till. Monsieur Carriere proclaimed that he had never written such a thing and immediately afterwards a chorus member blamed it on the infamous Opéra Ghost.

Monsieur Reyer warmed up the chorus briefly with vocal exercises and after that they were finally off. Every preforming section was ready to rehearse.

Lindsay enjoyed watching them as they ran through the opening scene, the dancing was visually pleasing, the chorus sounded lovely, and the orchestra was superb. All of that was shattered when La Carlotta parted her lips and began to sing.


	8. The Viscount de Chagny

Rehearsal underwent a drastic change in proficiency when La Carlotta moved to center stage. She had a solo to preform while the rest of the company and chorus were off stage. Lindsay watched, eager with interest. The prima donna had to have certain qualities, they required excellent tone, beautiful vowels, perfect expressions, wonderful phrasing, and overall; great musical ability.

 _"This trophy from our saviors, from our saviors, from the enslaving force of Rome!"_

La Carlotta held no desirable qualities. She screamed on the high notes instead of floating on them, her vowels sounds more of laboring cows then superior operatic singing. The expression on her face was either huge gaping emotionless ones or grimaces for others who had done wrong by her. They were nothing of the displays of triumph, success, or even pride. All would be appropriate for what her lines consisted of. Lindsay saw that she was holding up a beheaded prop, and it looked shoddy. It was no where close to being finished and as the chorus entered the stage Lindsay saw varying degrees of finished products. Numerous costumes were not completely done, several still had large portions missing.

 _"With feasting and dancing and song, tonight in celebration - We great the victorious throng, returned to bring salvation!"_ Sang the female chorus members.

The brass section of the pit orchestra repeated the musical line of the chorus again while they moved on the stage. Lindsay noticed that it was apart of the transition between the two halves of the chorus.

 _"The trumpets of Carthage resound! Hear, Romans, now and tremble! Hark to our steps on the ground!"_ The male chorus replied. Lindsay observed that they too had unfinished costumes.

 _"Hear the drums, Hannibal comes!"_ They all sang in unison. Everyone on the stage parted to clear the way for Piangi's character's entrance.

 _"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Roma's far reaching grasp-"_ He sang along. Lindsay, unfamiliar with the opera, questioned whether he was to pronounce it as he did or without the rolled 'R' and 'A'.

Monsieur Reyer cut the orchestra off and tried to do the same with the ensemble. "Gentlemen, gentlemen please-" but he himself was cut off as Monsieur Lefèvre interrupted them all. He was not alone, two other males were with him.

"Rehearsals, you can see, are underway for a new production of Chalumeau's _Hannibal_." Monsieur Lefèvre informed them. They walked right into the center of the stage.

"Monsieur Lefèvre!" Monsieur Reyer cried from the orchestra pit. "We are rehearsing!"

"Monsieur Reyer, Monsieur Carriere, Madame Giry," The manager began. "ladies and gentlemen please, if I could have your attention." He paused, waiting for it be to quiet enough. He deserved that at least after all the years he had invested into the theater. "For some weeks, as you know, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement." Another pause for suspense. "I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opéra Populaire; Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Gillies André " Handfuls of conversations broke out at the new revelation.

Madame Giry and Monsieur Carriere were quick to silence the chorus and company while Monsieur Reyer did the same for the orchestra.

Monsieur Richard Firmin was taller then his fellow manager. His hair was a dark brown with stripes of grey on the base by his ears. He too wore a mustache and it matched his hair in color and extended just to the edge of his top lip. He appeared to take more time in the styling of his hair in comparison to his companion. Monsieur Firmin wore a dark maroon wine colored coat with light beige pants. His vest underneath his jacket was a more vibrant shade of red. He had gloves in a matching color and he also wore a white dress shirt. Also in style with his color scheme was a red cravat around his neck with maroon designs and a gold button in the center. He seemed to be the more serious of the two.

Monsieur Gillies André wore the same clothing items in different colors. His coat was deep plum in color with a dark mossy green vest. The vest had black designs imprinted onto its fabric. The trousers he had on were grey in color and around his neck was a bow tie. It was horizontally long and matched his vest. He had no gloves but instead had a walking cane, though he did not appear to need it for its intended use. Monsieur André's hair was a mass of light greyish white compacted curls. His mustache resembled his tie and was a plain grey color, his chin had the early traces of a beard.

"I am sure you have read of their recent fortune amass the junk business." Monsieur Lefèvre finished. The members of the Opéra House burst into rounds of applause for their new managers, Lindsay was not among them.

"Scrap metal, actually." Monsieur André said.

"And we are deeply honored to introduced our new patron," Monsieur Firmin began.

"The Vicomte de Chagny!" Monsieur André finished gleefully.

Lindsay glanced up in alarm. She had been admiring the auditorium and the lighting that lit the edge rim of the stage. They were several pegs that had elongated shells on them and each one contained a flame. The arrival of a new patron did not bode well with her. Lindsay knew that she was a higher rank of the nobility then the Vicomte but his presence would not make it any easier for her. He was most likely accustomed to the noble ones who lived in Paris and that of real counts and countesses.

"My family and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world renowned Opéra Populaire." He said. Lindsay could see his blue eyes shinning proudly, his completion was like that of a girl's complete with fair light brown hair.

Carlotta forced her way to stand in front of the four gentlemen, Lindsay watched with silent amusement. The prima donna looked like a walking carpet. The use of the green, brown, red, white, and gold fabric made it so.

"Vicomte, gentlemen, this is Singora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons." Monsieur Lefèvre introduced. Carlotta held out her hand as an invitation for them to kiss and the three of them did. Piangi produced a small cry to gain their attention. "Singor Ubadlo Piangi." Monsieur Lefèvre said. Applause was given for both leads, Lindsay clapped for no one.

"It is an honor Signor, I believe I am keeping you from your rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph." The Vicomte spoke, then turned to the orchestra conductor. "My apologies Monsieur." He left the stage and continued out of sight.

Monsieur Reyer thanked the new patron and made an attempt to continue on with their rehearsal. The music began again with the ballet corps springing into action. Lindsay observed them as they danced through the scene, they wore red and green costumes with long strands reaching down to the floor. The light caught on their numerous beads and jewels. While they danced Madame Giry moved the new managers to the side to prevent them from interfering with the choreography. Lindsay watched as they engaged in conversation. Monsieur Firmin pointed to a blonde ballerina and Madame Giry smiled, Lindsay assumed that the young ballerina was the daughter of the ballet instructor. Their resemblance was very close. They had similar body frame and they shared facial features, although one had weathered far more many storms.

 _"Bid welcome to Hannibal's guests, the elephants of Carthage! -_ _As guides on our conquering quests, Dido sends Hannibal's friends!"_ Sang the chorus. The next phrase had everyone singing, including the two leads. Lindsay was not impressed. Carlotta has not demonstrated any shred of worthiness. Lindsay was amazed that she had been apart of the Opéra House for five seasons.

 _"The trumpeting elephants sound, hear, Romans, now and tremble! - Hark to their step on the ground, hear the drums! Hannibal comes!"_

A large prop elephant rolled its way onto the stage for the final moments. Lindsay was interested to see the rest of the opéra, if only Carlotta had not been cast as the lead. It seemed that someone else shared the same opinion as Lindsay, unbeknownst to any of them at the moment.


	9. An Early Curtain Call

With the final cut off from Monsieur Reyer the first scene was finished. The orchestra conductor began to hastily write down reminders for himself and the rest if the ensemble. Madame Giry was giving pointers to one ballet dancer, his movements were slightly behind the rest of the ballet corps. Monsieur Carriere had approached the elephant prop and was instructing the crew that moved it. They did not positioned it correctly, for Piangi had not been able to climb onto it.

"Well the Vicomte is very excited about tonight's gala." Monsieur Lefèvre said clasping his hands together. He was immediately greeted by Carlotta strutting over. Lindsay had noticed how she became enraged when no one was paying attention to her.

"Alora, alora, alora, I offer, he is excited about dancing girls as your new managers, because I will not be singing!" She said hotly to them. The last few words were given large amounts of emphasis.

Lindsay wondered if the new managers could understand what she was shouting at them in her thick Italian accent. Apparently they did, or were just fearful of the prima donna because they both had horror plastered to their faces.

Carlotta turned away from them waving her hands and shouting a bit more in her native language. Lindsay was quite relieved, she would not have to hear her sing anymore. She hoped the understudy had her part well memorized due to Carlotta's departure.

The two new managers looked to Monsieur Lefèvre for any sort of explanation or instructions. Lindsay heard him tell them to grovel and they did just that. Monsieurs Firmin and André hurried to catch up with the fleeing soprano. They began to praise her as she called out goodbyes. Lindsay wished they had not done so, now they had requested her to sing some aria from the third act of the opera. She was impressed with Carlotta's extreme change in emotions. The prima donna had gone from raging screams to tear filled eyes and now the humble little soprano. Lindsay wondered where this had been during the opening scene.

The managers and Carlotta moved to the center of the stage again. As they passed Lindsay heard Monsieur André ask Monsieur Lefèvre why he was leaving. The outgoing manager responded with for his health.

Monsieur Reyer moved quickly to the orchestra pit to lead them through the aria. While he did Carlotta ordered everyone to be quiet. Afterwards one of her assistants brought forth her bottle of mouth spray. A small piano intro began before Carlotta entered.

 _"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye - Remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try - And then you'll find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free-"_ Carlotta sang with the same horrid style she had before. Lindsay was grateful for the falling set piece, until she realized it was going to fall on the Singora's head.

Without hesitation she raised her hand her hand up to her mouth and whispered, "Confundus." She moved her hand in the shape of a hook to bewitch the hanging backdrop. It moved in the air backwards and only hit the backside of Carlotta's enormous dress. She fell to the ground screaming and pounding the floor with her hands. Several cries filled the auditorium from the ballet corps and chorus.

Monsieur Lefèvre demanded an explanation from Joseph Buquet up in the rafters. The stagehand had none for he was not at his post and suggested it was the Ghost for there was no one else in the area. Lindsay thought that Buquet would take any opportunity that came his way to stir up trouble. She could tell that he rather enjoyed seeing the ensemble in a flurry.

"Singora, these things to happen." Monsieur André said once she was back on her feet. Lindsay knew that was not a very wise thing to say.

"For the past three years these things do happen!" She spat at all of them. "And did you stop them from happening? NO!" She said to the former manager. Finally she turned to the two new ones. "And you two, you are as bad as him! 'These things do happen,' until you stop these things from happening this does not happen!" She shrieked. Lindsay found her anger reasonable now, she had nearly died and they did not find it very concerning. Or they were attempting to play it down but there was no understating with La Carlotta.

Carlotta, Piangi, and their assistants all left in a swirling enraged mass. Lindsay was glad to see them gone. The Opéra House would be better off without them.

"Gentlemen," Monsieur Lefèvre began. "good luck. If need me I shall be in Australia." Monsieur Reyer let out out a pitiful sigh while Monsieur Carriere and Madame Giry remained neutral expressions.

"Singora Giudicelli, she will be coming back won't she?" Monsieur André said clearly worried.

"You think so Monsieur?" Madame Giry spoke as she walked up the managers. There was a small smirk and Lindsay noticed that she was holding a piece of something. "I have a message sir from the Opéra Ghost."

"Oh God in heaven your all obsessed." Monsieur Firmin exclaimed.

Madame Giry continued on regardless of his outburst and even when he tried to interrupted her again. "He welcomes you to his Opera House, and commands that you leave Box Five empty for his use." She indicated with her cane to the box sections. "And reminds you that his salary is due. Monsieur Lefèvre used to give him 20,000 francs a month."

"20,000 francs!" Monsieur Firmin cried out flabbergasted.

"Perhaps you can afford more with the Vicomte as a patron." Madame Giry teased in an uncommon way.

"Madame, I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight when the Vicomte was to join us for the Gala, but obviously we will have to cancel as it appears we have lost our star!" Monsieur Firmin retorted. He had snatched the not from Monsieur André's hands and tore it to bits.

Monsieur André tried to salvage what was left of the crumpling business by suggesting and understudy. But the orchestra conductor shot that down, Carlotta had no understudy. Lindsay found that to be their own doomed fault, she could have gotten sick or moved or anything and this still would have happened. The managers bickered about how they were to refund a full house when Madame Giry delivered their saving grace.

"Christine Daaé could sing it sir."

Every single person ceased what they were doing.

"But a chorus girl? Don't be silly." Monsieur André said in no mood to be amused.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher Monsieur." Madame Giry insisted.

"Who?"

"I don't know his name Monsieur." The ballerina said shyly.

"Let her sing for you Monsieur, she has been well taught." Madame Giry said as she moved to stand next to her. Lindsay saw her blonde daughter was also next to Christine Daaé.

They agreed to allow her to sing for them. Monsieur Reyer instructed for her to start from the beginning of the aria. Lindsay was skeptical, a chorus member would be a better choice then per-say a stagehand but Mademoiselle Daaé seemed unsure of herself and that was not something they could afford.

 _"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye - Remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try - And then you'll find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free -_ If you ever find a moment spare _a thought for me."_ She continued on through the aria.

When it was all said and done young Christine was cast as the lead for the performance. Lindsay that her voice was very much preferred to Carlotta's but she sand someone else's musical identity. Lindsay could tell that Christine sang the interpretation of another rather then her own view for it. Someone was teaching her, and it was not anyone present in the auditorium.


	10. Gloaming Gala

Once the final measures of the opéra had been rehearsed the three present directors -Monsieur Reyer, Monsieur Carriere, and Madame Giry- dismissed the ensemble and orchestra. They were not required to be back at the Opéra House for several hours. Lindsay expected to resume her tour of the theater with Madame Giry, but the ballet instructor was not in sight or anywhere to be found. Lindsay paid no mind, she would rather wander it alone.

Lindsay viewed the auditorium once more before exiting the stage. She looked at the chandelier, it was easily the grandest piece in the whole theater. It had three large tiers with two smaller ones. The largest was the middle, or third, tier. There was a bronze circle band that had elaborate designs. There were numerous lights crafted onto it. The third tier had a pattern, on the four cardinal points there were four light bulbs with lyres positioned in between them. In between the groups of four lights there were six. Each section of light bulbs were separated by a lyre. Trailing from lyre to lyre were crystal gems strung across. Beginning from the northern direction the pattern went; four, lyre, six, lyre, four (east point), lyre, six, lyre, four (south point), lyre, six, lyre, four (west point), lyre, six, lyre, and circling fully back to the north point. The string of crystals that hung from the lyres held more then twenty tiny dangling gems. Cascading from tier to tier were even more crystal strings, her admiration of the center piece was brought to a halt when a girl voice's was calling for Lindsay's attention.

"Comtesse?"

Lindsay turned to see the young ballerina who she believed to be Madame Giry's daughter. The girl had fair long blonde hair curled past her shoulders. Her stance was poised with proper alignment that was found only in dancers. Her heels were placed together and her hands rested gently in front. Lindsay was taller then her by inches and her age was inconclusive.

"Your Ladyship, my name is Meg Giry." The ballerina began politely. "Earlier my mother was presenting your tour of the Opéra House. Sadly one of our ballet members, Henri, has just sprained his ankle and Madame Giry is required to tend to him."

"That is most unfortunate." Lindsay responded with. "Are you both to lead the tour?" She asked with a glance at the other ballerina who stood a few feet behind Meg Giry.

With a look over her shoulder and a wave of her arm Meg Giry beckoned her friend over. Christine Daaé was taller then Meg, but just barely below Lindsay. Her blue eyes were shy and her hair was golden honey in color. Christine's blonde head varied from the other ballerina for Meg's was vibrant corn colored yellow, and her eyes were a clear light blueish grey. Lindsay could tell that the two of them had been friends for several years.

"My Lady." Christine Daaé spoke quietly, hardly above a whisper. Lindsay arched an eyebrow slightly, she was no by means offended with the new lead's manners instead she was rather intrigued. She speculated that it was due to her sudden promotion from chorus girl to prima donna for the evening's performance.

"I look forward to tonight's show." Lindsay stated. Christine's mouth twitched into a minuscule smile. Meg grinned happily and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Yes it's a gala in recognition for Monsieur Lefèvre's efforts for the Opera House." Meg explained its dedication, she rubbed Christine's arm to comfort her.

"Please, Mademoiselle Daaé, the managers have faith in your successful performance." Lindsay encouraged.

"It is not them I am concerned with pleasing." Christine said quietly, unnaturally distant with her voice.

"Where did you leave off at, Lady Lyon?" Meg asked her. Lindsay recounted how she had seen the staircase and foyer as well as the main entrance. She also entailed how she had become acquainted with Monsieur Moncharmin.

The two ballerinas decided to show Lindsay the dormitories first. It was where the majority of the ballet corps, company, and other members of the staff resided. The orchestra and the managers lived outside of the theater. Madame Giry and Monsieur Moncharmin were the only directors who stayed at the Opéra House, the rest all had other arrangements. The three of them made their way backstage to the living areas. There were more corridors that led to various places such as the kitchen and storage rooms. The offices and other official places were found in the front of the Opéra House.

The kitchen was their first arrival point. Meg introduced her to the head chef named Monsieur Allard. He neglected to take her hand due to his being covered in flour. Some of the elder males were introduced to her, there was Feuilly, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac. Lindsay knew that she was not going to be able to remember all of the names that the ballet girls presented to her. She would be able to recall which section of the theater they were from, and Lindsay expected that she would not be seeing them on a daily basis anyways.

Courfeyrac had a large wave of brown hair upon his head. His high cheek bones were very prominent and his eyes were a sweet milk chocolate brown. He was quite tall and had visible muscles, something Lindsay assumed he had gained from the labors of carrying the massive sacks of flour. Combeferre was smaller then Courfeyrac, but just as physical adept. His blonde hair lay in ringlets across his scalp. His eyes were a sea blue color and his cheeks had a rosy pink tone to them. Feuilly had swirls of curls layered on top of his forehead. He was more agile and filled with speed instead of brute strength. His grace was shown through his clear grey eyes. He had side burns which trailed down the length of his ears before ceasing. The three of them all appeared to be in their twenties, the other members of the kitchen seemed younger with the exception of Monsieur Allard.

Meg and Christine guided Lindsay to where the maids slept. There were three divisions; parlor, chamber, and laundry that all shared the same living quarters. They were managed by Madame Chastain, she reported to Monsieur Moncharmin. The butlers also served under Madame Chastain but they had their own smaller dorm. Lindsay was informed by the two ballerinas that most of the stagehands stayed outside of the theater, the few that did not made their home with the kitchen staff.

As they made their way down to the lowest levels of the dormitories they passed a small window. The warm rustic bronze hue filtered through the window pain. Lindsay paused for a moment to admire the scene outside. The display of the setting sun cast fading lights across the sky. The red and orange shades of light were being overcome by soft salmon and yellow ones. The shadows grew long and thick as darkness created its inky shade upon the land. The dark blue and purple sky swelled across the twilight. The moon was beginning to shine against the time of dusk. Lindsay's eyes lay on the sight in front of her before turning to follow the ballerinas.

The ballet dormitories were filled to the brim with ballerinas and dancers preparing themselves for the performance. Meg and Christine parted ways with Lindsay, for they had to make themselves ready too. Lindsay excused herself from their presence and followed the staircase back to the stage. Again she paused at the window, everything was dark. The shadows had overrun the rest of the light and it was time for the gala to begin.


	11. Think of Me

Upon her return to the front half of the theater the managers descended. Monsieurs Firmin and André greeted her and properly introduced themselves. They gushed to her about how gay they were to have her as a patron. Lindsay was only artifically flattered.

The two managers informed her that the Vicomte was already sitting in his box and she would be with them for the evening. Monsieur André offered her a refreshment of champagne which she politely accepted. Lindsay had never tasted beverages like the sparkling wine and she had no intentions to begin drinking. The Durham family only had red or white wine on special holidays or other celebratory occasions. The age for consumption was regularly enforced, though none of those who were underaged attempted to break it.

She was escourted to their box by the managers with her drink in hand. The three of them walked up the Grand Staircase, yet Lindsay felt as though she were in a parade. The managers were successful in their task of displaying her for all to see, even more so to be with them. They were expirenced businessmen and knew how to draw crowds. The publicity they were sure to recive from having the Victome de Chagny and the Comtesse de Lyon as patrons would sustain them greatly.

Lindsay and the managers arrived at Box Six, which was on the left side of the auditorium. It was on the stage's right side. Across from them directly was Box Five, where the Vicomte had seated himself among others of the French nobility. All of the odd numbered boxes were on the right side of the auditorium. The even ones followed the same on the opposite side. There were luxurious chairs for them to sit in. The cushions were made of red velvet with gold embroidery. The wood was from a dark oak tree and smoothed to perfection.

She looked out over the floor below them, Lindsay could see that every seat was filled. A full house just as Monsieur Firmin had mentioned earlier. The other box seats were full with guests as well as the balconies. Lindsay looked to the orchestra pit where Monsieur Reyer was standing. The curtain was still drawn closed regardless of the oncoming show time. In their time waiting the managers alternated drawing attention to important attendees for the Comtesse to later be aquainted with.

The Vicomte appeared to be enjoying himself from what Lindsay could see across the auditorium. His smile was pleasant as he continued to drain his glass. She watched him as he conversed with who she had learned to be the Baron de Troyes. The city was a little over one hundred miles to the southeast of Paris.

"Ah, it is seven'o'clock, it should be starting now!" Monsieur André said with a glance to his pocket watch. Lindsay could hardly believe his amazement, Monsieur Firmin had to reassure him just as Reyer stepped onto his podium and began the preformance with the orchestra. Lindsay found herself concluding that the two managers were suited better for the field of business itself rather then the theater. Though the financials of the Opéra House had to be run by someone there were surely others better to do so.

The opening scene ran smoothly. Lindsay noticed only a few dozen small mishaps. Though most of them were tiny adjustments that would be fixed easily in the following rehearsals. Some of the dancers were not entirely all together during movements and a few would start before the others. The majority of the problems arose from Miss Daaé. It was clear to her that the new lead soprano did not know her role fully. The vocals were correct when she was singing, when she was not it was an absences from the stage. Christine often stood in one place out of the ballet corp's way and waited to begin singing again. Lindsay understood that learning the part the day of the preformance was taxing and bound to be problematic but the rest of the audience was not influenced by sympathy.

The first act of four passed by with little recognition on Lindsay's behalf. Something else had caught her eye. A shadow moved against the dark blackened ceiling. The dimmed lights created a protective veil for the specter to conduct himself in. Lindsay thought that if he wanted to remain completly unseen he should not wear such dramatic clothing. The glow of the chandelier prevented any unclouded or unobscured viewing to be in sight. She wondered how the acoustics were up there, the dome of the rotunda would surely alter the sound in some fashion.

After the second act there was a brief intermission. The managers called for more champagne to celebrate. The two of them stood while basking in the sight of their new empire. Lindsay remained in her seat. If she were to rise everyone on the floor and balconies would see her and she preferred to remain out of the limelight.

Monsieur Firmin refilled her glass, Lindsay had been magically draining it into the managers wine glasses, and proposed a toast. He wished that the Opéra House would have plentiful wealthy and good fortune. He continued on to toast for good health and overall positive blessings but before he could finish the toast Monsieur Firmin was interrupted by the Vicomte de Chagny.

The new patron entered their box and greeted them cheerfully. He shook both Monsieurs Firmin and André's hands before turning his undivided attention to Lindsay. Monsieur Firmin noticed quickly that they had not been introduced.

"Ah, Vicomte, may André and I present the Comtesse de Lyon to you." He said raising his hand to gesture.

The Vicomte stepped closer to her and brought her hand to his lips. He kissed her hand delicately and introduced himself as Raoul, though Lindsay would still address him as Vicomte. In the remaining minutes of the intermission the four of them discussed logistics of managing the financial aspects. It was becoming increasingly obvious to Lindsay that a female patron was uncommon or rare. She was relieved when the third act began. Unexpectedly the Victome sat down in the open chair next to Lindsay. She remained prim and proper as to asking why had had not returned to his own box.

The third act passed along lullingly like the fog on a harbor. The crest of the ocean's mist was hidden from view until the sun burned away the mist. The third act's conclusion was the aria Madmoiselle Daeé sang earlier. She stood in the center of the stage with her tapestry resembling dress and began the aria.

 _"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye - Remember me, once in a while please promise me you'll try - When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free -_ _If you ever find a moment spare_ _a thought for me."_

Madmoiselle Daaé preformed the aria quite well to Lindsay's standers. The orchestra swelled to carry the motion of the phrase along. Christine entered again with the familiar motif.

 _"We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea - But if you can still remember, stop and think of me."_ She moved to the front of the stage with flourishes of her long scarf.

 _"Think of all the things we've shared and seen - Don't think about the way things might have been."_ Christine sang sweetly stepping to her right dragging the scarf.

 _"Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned - Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind."_ Christine wove the scarf around her bare arms.

 _"Recall those days, look back on all those times think of the things we'll never do - There will never be a day when I won't think of you."_ She sang up to a higher note and moved her hands accordingly. The timpani role and the brass entrance picked up the melody where she had left off. Rounds of applause sounded from the house.

"Can it be? Can it be Christine?" Murmured the seat next to Lindsay. "Bravo!" The Vicomte said exuberantly. He rose to his feet to applaud her. He continued to think aloud quietly to himself during the clapping. _"_ _What a change, you're really not a bit, the quirkish girl that once you were. She may not remember me, but I remember her."_ He went along and Lindsay noticed he had matched it to the aria melody.

Christine entered one final time for the aria with the cadenza. She held her hands high with the scarf in tow and finsihed. _"Flowers fade, the fruit of summer fade. They have their seasons, so do we. - But please promise me that sometimes, you will think... Of me!"_


	12. Angels in the Mirror

After the four and final act of the opéra the managers marched the ridged patrons to the Grand Foyer. Lindsay had no desire to reprise the evening's previous roles. The large crowd of varying fabrics had yet to take notice of the new owners.

"Well Victome, Comtesse, I believe we have made quite a discovery with Madmoiselle Daaé." Monsieur Firmin stated as they walked down the stairs.

"Perhaps we could present her to you both?" Monsieur André pitched in hopefully.

"Gentlemen, if you do not mind this is one visit I would like to make unaccompanied." The Vicomte requested with a charming smile. He took Lindsay's hand once more before leaving. "Comtesse." He said as a parting.

"It would appear they have met before." Monsieur Firmin concluded after the Victome's departure. Monsieur André agreed and seemed dismayed.

"Do not take his words to heart, gentlemen. The Vicomte de Chagny merely yearns to rekindle an old flame." Linday instructed, she remained hopefully that their love affair would not consume them all. "Gentlemen, one important location I missed on my tour was the lavatory, could you point me in the direction of it please?"

The managers were helpful to show her the way to the bathrooms and they knew better then to escourt her there. Lindsay was grateful for the crowd, it made slipping out of sight blissfully easy. She made her way to the back of the theater. The numbers of people gathered began to thin out as she continued further on. Upon her travels she spotted Meg Giry amoung the mass. The blonde ballerina weaved in and out of clusters and kept her head high searching for someone. Lindsay could only guess who, and decided to follow her. Meg lead her to the dormitories and lower where the walls were made of stone. Lindsay pursued from a distance. As she moved closer to the stairs leading down to the Chapelle a luring voice chimed.

"Bravi, bravi, bravissimi..."

Meg was unphased or never heard it as she paced down the stairs singing. _"Where in the world have you been hiding, really you were perfect."_ She cooed encouraged to an unseen figure. _"I only wish I knew your secrect, who is this new tutor?"_

Lindsay experienced difficulties when the two ballerinas began to speak with each other. Lindsay crept further down the stone steps to hear what they were staying. Christine was in the process of answering Meg's question about her new music teacher. Lindsay doubted that she had ever had one before or her rising talent would have been exploited sooner.

Christine reminded Meg of how she had come to train and live in the ballet dormitories after her father had died. Her mother had died when she was only six year olds. After that Christine and her father, Gustave, traveled around the country. Her arrival in Paris marked the beginning of her formal music training. She entered the Conservatoire de Paris and attended for four years. During her time at the school her father had died and Christine started to lose her passion for singing. By the end of the four years she hardly cared for it anymore.

When she left the conservatory Madame Giry brought her in to be apart of the ballet corps. Lindsay was suprised to see such a prominent relationship spring up between Meg and Christine despite the short time since they met. It was a true image of their strong friendship.

"Christine, do you believe that the spirit of your father is coaching you?" Meg asked and her friend nodded.

 _"Father once spoke of an Angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's real."_ Christine sang rising to her feet. She had been sitting on the floor while she had lit a candle for her father.

 _"Here in this room he calls me softly. Somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me, he the unseen genius."_ Christine continued. She and Meg stood close together. Meg reached for Christine's hands to comfort her, the soprano had grown pale.

 _"Christine you must have been dreaming. Stories like this can't come true."_ Meg began while leading her towards the stairs. Lindsay swiftly hurried back and scoured the area for a hiding place. There was a mirror imbedded in the wall and she opened it. The panel slid to the side as she stepped through. Lindsay turned around to see a concerned Meg reach the top of the stairs. _"Christine you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you."_ Meg finished as she helped guide the other ballerina's steps.

 _"Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant_ _to me your glory."_ Christine sang gently.

 _"Who is this angel, this-"_ Meg added before being joined by her friend.

 _"Angel of music, hide no longer, secrect and strange Angel."_ The two of them sang harmoniously. Christine's soprano voice shined through while Meg's mezzo or alto danced below.

 _"He's with me even now,"_

 _"Your hands are cold..."_

 _"All around me,"_

 _"Your face Christine, it white..."_

 _"It frightens me."_

 _"Don't be frightened..."_

Lindsay listened to them as they walked further away from the Chapelle. She turned to look at what she had crossed over into. It was a tunnel exact to the one she had been in before when she had first viewed the auditorium. The system of passage ways was a twisting maze before her. It reminded her of the seven secret ones at Hogwarts, though those had become increasingly popular and were now patrolled. The ones at Hogwarts only went to and from, Lindsay could see just from her brief expodition that these trailed on unexpectedly.

As she rounded a corner Lindsay discovered another entry. The two way mirror was backstage by tables of props. She continued on curious as to where the stone corridor would lead her. The passage ways were dank and droplets made small puddles in some of the corners. The halls were not lit by any means so she bestowed it upon her self to do so with the use of Lumos.

The clear pulsing blue light filled every crack and crevice in the area. She continued on searching for the next mirror, she hoped that in the passing time the managers had forgotten about her and that the Opéra House would be closing its doors for the day. With everyone gone or asleep she could find a place to stay hidden for the night. It certainly would most deffienetly not be in the secret corridors for there was someone else residing in them.

Lindsay extinguished the light of her wand immediately, willing him not to see her. He stood a distance further down, watching the scene in front of him intently. Lindsay cast the Disillusionment Charm on herself to remain unnoticed. Her chameleon state blended in with her surroundings.

Silently she paced forward. It was he who had before told her the way to reach the auditorium. It was he who had played the organ masterfully, he who disappeared without a trace, he who had been deemed responsible for the fallen set piece, and he who had been watching the preformance from the rotunda. She was close enough to see that his clothing was the same, with the addition of a cape. Voices could be heard from the other side of the mirror and she turned her head to see who it was.

 _"Little Lotte let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?"_ The Vicomte sang nostalgically. He and Christine were sitting beside her dressing table.

 _"Or of riddles of frocks,"_ Christine continued.

"Those picnics in the attic," The Vicomte said. _"Or of chocolates?"_ He finished.

"Father playing the violin."

"As we read to each other dark stories of the north."

 _"No- what I love best Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head, the Angel of Music sings songs in my head..."_ Christine sang and he joined her in the last line.

The two of them spoke with each other about the preformance and soon enough the Vicomte was inviting Christine to ride in his carriage to dine with him. He allowed her sometime to change while she protested him passively and unsuccessfully. He left the dressing room and closed the door behind him, unaware that it locked as he passed.

Christine strode over to where she changed her clothes behind a screen. Moments later she reappeared by the door claude in a white nightgown's robe. Underneath she still wore her ballet costume, her hand reached for the door handle before turning away. She walked to the chair beside the desk and with a heavy sigh said,

"Things have changed Raoul."

 _ **"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"**_ He roared. Thunder streched across the sky as lightning raked the clouds. The sky was fraught with icy shards as they pierced the delicate scene. The land rattled in its shell as the storm waged on. His voice boomed in the corridor and sounded from every direction in the dressing room.

Christine's back had arched as she stiffened in her seat. Slowly her head turned up to face the angered voice. Her eyes searched the room as she glanced from side to side. Lindsay stood still on the other side staring in awe at him. She had it figured out.

 _"Angel I hear you, speak I listen. Stay by my side, guide me. Angel my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last Master."_ Christine sang very much afraid.

 _"Flattering child you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside."_ He sang warmly. Christine stood and paced around the room hopeful to see him. Hesitantly she did as he commanded and saw him. He was just beginning to appear in the mirror, his head was the only part illuminated.

 _"Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory. Angel of Music, hide no longer. Come to me strange Angel."_ Christine sang with her hands raised high to praise him.

 _"I am your Angel of Music. Come to the Angel of Music..."_ He hypnotically sang to her. He had captured her senses and lured her in closer. A rapping at the door came and he glared at it, as if his eyes would cause it to surrender. It was the Vicomte trying the handle and calling for Christine.

"Who's is that voice? Who is that in there?" The Victome questioned and demanded to know.

 _"I am your Angel of Music. Come to the Angel of Music..."_

Christine reached for him in a daze. The mirror parted the seperation of space between them. She moved in a trance, with dream state eyes. Lindsay recoiled backwards to avoid colliding with them.

The door unlocked and opened itself and the Vicomte burst into the now barren room. He shouted as the light winked out "Christine? Angel!"


	13. Beware the Labyrinth

The stone corridor was flooded with darkness. The blackness was triumphed by the light of the lantern he carried. The lantern was held just below his chin to allow for optimum viewing, not that he needed it. The crisscrossing halls were an extension of him, he had them memorized like any other section of the Opéra House.

Behind him trailed the young soprano. She held on to his left hand with her right as he lead her away from the dressing room. Christine had never heard of the hidden tunnels within the theater. She slowly moved her head to look at all that was passing her by in the gloom. The darkness was a hindrance for her, but not for him.

Lindsay stayed her safe distance apart from them. The absence of light allowed her to prevail from being seen. She watched them as they walked down the passage way. Christine followed with doe eyes and butterfly movements. She was charmed by him and he continued on. His cape gave him no defined shape or figure. The hat upon his head hid his face and the lantern drew long shadows across him. He brought them through numerous twists and turns before the two of them reached a crossroads and he led her on to a spiraling staircase. As they moved up along its steps Christine began to sing.

 _"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name."_ Her voice was soft and pure. The hypnotic state she was in caused her to follow along without protest. " _And do I dream again, for now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind."_

They had reached the highest point in the staircase as Lindsay began her ascent to pursue them. Her concealed self remained unnoticed. She could see his gaze as he watched Christine with primal eyes. He strode across an open sided walkway. The inner side was an old grey stone wall and the other had wood beams and a rail. The open space between the wooden supports were covered in the same darkness. Christine was guided by him as he too raised his voice in song.

 _"Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet."_ He sang with a sublime quality. His voice was enchanting and alluring and continued to captivate her. At the end of the railing there was a gap in the beams, he stood in front of it and gave a wave with the lantern. Stone steps slid out from the wall as he continued to lead her on lower. Christine bestowed her eyes of her own accord back to the overview where Lindsay was standing. _"And_ _though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind."_ He continued to sing as she looked away.

They reached the bottom of the stairs which were carved from the side of the cold wall. Lindsay stood, holding back, at the first step. She could hear the soft lapping of waves against the shore.

He released her hand for the first time since her dressing room as the soles of his shoes made contact with the ground floor. With his free outstretched hand he summon the gondola which would carry them to his lair. The small boat sailed through the waters and came to a rest at the shore. At the crown of the gondola he placed the lantern. He turned to Christine and guided her into the boat. He stepped in behind her and drew out a long rod to steer them.

Lindsay watched as he pushed them away from the stone shore and glided effortlessly over the waves. The black waters reflected the dim lighting and rippled like glass. The memorizing scene was enticing as she stood behind them. Mist started to accumulate and dance upon the surface of the lake.

 _"Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear,"_ Christine sang.

 _"It's me, they hear."_ He responded to her. The fog swirled around them. It covered the water beneath them as licked closer to the rim of the boat. Lindsay regarded on as he governed them around the path laid out within his mind.

 _"My/Your spirit and your/my voice, in one combined, the Phantom of the Opera is there inside your/my mind."_ They sang together in unison. Lindsay stepped out across the lake, leaving the shore behind with the use a of spell. It was a combination of the Levitation Spell and the Aquamenti Spell, it allowed her to walk on top of the water without sinking. She crossed over the waves and magically altered her voice to sound unrecognizable and to sound like several in numbers. Lindsay called a warning, the boat was moving increasingly close to the other side of the lake.

 _"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera... Beware, the Phantom of the Opera..."_

He raised his hand as a ghostly voice echoed throughout the subterranean lake. The candelabras floated out of the waters and illuminated his lair.

 _"In all your fantasy, you always knew, that man and mystery,"_ He sang to her.

 _"Are both in you."_ She finished and turned her head to look at him.

 _"And in this labyrinth where night_ _is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there/here inside your/my mind."_ As they sailed closer the gate rose from the deep trench and allowed them passage.

The boat was directed to a halt at the black steps of the opposite of the lake. He stowed away the propellant rod and stepped out of the boat. He created a dramatic flair with his cape and turned to reach for Christine. She took his hand to lift herself out of the boat.

 _"Sing, my Angel of Music."_ He walked backwards guiding her as he commanded her to continue singing.

 _"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera..."_ Christine began. She remaining singing on 'ah' as she demonstrated her musical abilities.

 _"Sing..."_ He called to her. She climbed higher in her vocal range. He flung his hat away. With a flick of his arms his cape whipped off of him.

 _"Sing for me."_ He instructed. Christine rose higher retaining the same pattern with rhythms. He stood behind her listening to her voice resonating on the walls and water. He ran his hands over the top of his head to savor the moment.

 _"Sing my Angel of Music!"_ He said moving closer to her. Christine sang one continuous note on a high C only pausing to breath.

 _"Sing for me!"_ He commanded as he grasped her and projected her forward broadcasting the sound of her high E to echo throughout the lair. He crossed his lair and stood at the organ. He accompanied himself as he sang on, revealing to Christine his intentions.

 _"I have brought you to the scene of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music."_ He paused to meaningfully glance down at the sheet music sitting before him. He looked up and spurned on with a burning glory sang. " _You have come here, for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing I have needed you with me to serve me to sing for my music, my music..."_

Christine still stood at the edge of the lake watching him as he played on the organ before facing her fully. Lindsay hovered on the opposite side of the black gate. She knew they could not sing forever and grew to wonder what his overall plan and idea was for bringing Christine down below to his lair.


	14. Nightfall

The chill was ever present against the desolate blackness in which Lindsay concealed herself. Darkness crept around every corner and the gloom filled the endless cracks. The shadows fell across the void cloaking the lake in mystery. The inky waters were hidden beneath the hoary fog that had spread out over the surface. And yet, in the midst of all the surrounding sable vicinity, a celestial voice chimed throughout the realm.

 _"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."_ He sang to Christine with all the seraphic measures. He had turned his head up slowly to gaze upon her. His movements led him away from the organ and closer to Christine. The young soprano had changed her stance to face the lake and what lay beyond its shores.

 _"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender."_ He began his approach to her with a feline grace. His strides were predatory as the space between them narrowed. _"Turn your face away from the garish light of day."_ A hand reached out to guide Christine's look in the opposite direction of himself. His fingers delicately slid under her chin to bring her back to his attention. _"Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night."_ He stepped aside from her and waved his arm in front of her face. His palm closed as it reached her eyes.

 _"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before."_ With his hand still outstretched he pulled away from Christine. He began to pace around her in an ensnaring circle. _"Close your eyes, let your your spirit start to soar. And you'll live as you've never lived before."_ His stalking brought him to the other side of her as he grasped for her awareness. He raised his hand up to hover in the air before her. He reclined backwards in his steps before leaning forwards slightly to savor in the moment.

 _"Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Hear it, feel it, closing in around you."_ He crossed back to where the organ resided and his eyes glanced down at his scores. As he turned to fully face Christine he beckoned her forth to meet him. _"Open up your mind let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night."_ He sang as he crept back in the direction of the black gate with his hands triumphantly held high. His grip was latched on the cold bars as he bared himself to her. His fingers curled around them tightly as Christine drew near. She extended out to touch his face but his enticing spell over her wavered as she turned away. Christine flew astray from him but he was relentless. His dark figure pursued her slowly and confidently even though she had fled.

 _"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before."_ He made his stance for her observation. She hesitantly and unseeingly turned to him again. Christine was frozen in her place as he regained control once more. _"Let your soul take you where you long to be,"_ his voice rose to a heightened climax. The sound echoed throughout his realm. _"only then can you belong to me."_ He continued on more gently, as if he had forgotten to not scare her. He sealed the serene action by appearing behind her and running his hands along her arms.

 _"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation."_ He fanned an arm over her chest and cushioned her head against himself. His other hand found its way to her side to direct her in the lilting motions. They swayed back and forth while he sang to her. Christine raised herself slowly to feel him, but her action was intercepted bu him. _"Let the dream begin let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write... the power of the music of the night."_ He had snatched her wrist during her attempt to touch him and brought her across the chamber. He prowled to where a curtain was concealing something.

The hidden object was revealed as he drew away the shield. He flung aside the sheet and stood awaiting her approval for his creation. Christine stared at what seemed to be her twin. Standing like a statue was a bride in a wedding dress. She moved closer to it to examine it further. The mannequin sprang forward off its hinges and bounced lightly in its stand. Christine was frightened by the sudden and inhuman movement and fell faint.

Immediately he was scooping up her limp form. His movements were purposely slow, so that he did not wake her and to appreciate their close proximity. He carried her to a throne of pillows concealed in a crafted shell. It looked similar to that of the boat which had brought them across the lake. With more care then ever exhibited he laid her to rest. He paused a moment to enjoy the pleasure he felt before drawing his cape over her.

 _"You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night..."_ he concluded. His hand lingered on her shoulder before he composed himself again to stand. He arose pleading for her to comply with him and bring his satisfaction. As the last notes faded off into the waters the candles dimmed to a faint glow.

Lindsay poised herself to begin the ascent back to the populated section of the theater. Her combination of the Levitation Spell and the Aquamenti Spell were still in effect when she crossed over the lake. Silently she walked to the far side without the use of Lumos. To her misfortune the stone steps had vanished. The wall was smooth and held no traces of its previous pathway.

She waved her hand and thought of the incantation to produce the Bluebell Flames. The small fire blazed in her palm about the size of a large candle. She neglected to use her wand for it would be too bright and draw attention to her. Lindsay altered the spell to cast the fire in a more natural color as opposed to bright blue. With the amber flame she searched the area for another passage way. Far over on the right hand side there was a break in the stone. Lindsay slipped through it not before turning to examine the lair; it had gone completely dark. With her flame to light the way she left the lake side.

Lindsay cautiously journeyed onward. Her light footsteps reflected sounds off of the corridor stones. She followed along its course when it diverted in a dextral fashion. Minutes passed to no avail, no other opening had shown itself. Lindsay's straight line of travel was interrupted when she noticed his presence. He was looming behind her and did not shy away when she turned to face him.

"Why, Miss Durham, have you come down this far?" His cold voice spoke to her. He wore the same clothes as he had earlier, yet this time his eyes burned feverishly with danger.


	15. A Dangerous Game

In all honest truth Lindsay was stuck between a wall and a cold place. She had no reason for being down there other than her own personal exploration. He certainly was not pleased to see her this deep in the dungeons. Lindsay had thought he would have been too preoccupied with his sleeping guest to bother with anything else.

"I am waiting." He restated for her. He paid no attention to the fact that she was holding a flame in her hand. The fire was seemingly hovering above her skin and was causing her no pain. It fascinated him with her ability to do so, he knew not how to recreate its effects. He could walk without sound and hypnotize anyone to do his will or follow his command. He was capable of constructing unimaginable horrors to his delight and he could create some of the finest music.

"I merely wanted to see the full extent of the passage way." Lindsay explained to him. It was growing more steadily aware to her that he did not know all of what she had seen down below.

Her reason appeared harmless enough, but he was experienced otherwise. "What is the meaning of that?" He questioned her about the orange fire. The light of it danced in his eyes setting them aglow. He was greatly interested in it, she showed no ill will about it. There were no burns on her skin or any protective materials. He had never seen anyone with the ability to touch fire and escape unharmed. His experience and knowledge spanned across huge distances and she contradicted each and every one of them.

From his stare Lindsay understood just what he meant. "This," she said looking down at her open hand. "is more preferred than this method." She said to him and pulled out her wand to use Lumos Maxima. The white ball floated to the top of the corridor and illuminated the space around them. The stone walls were visible for a great distance on either side.

He did not appreciate the harsh contrast and she knew it. His eyes turned to narrow slits in adjusting to the new found luminescence. Lindsay turned her hand over and closed it with a wave of her fingers to extinguish the flame.

"Did you enjoy the performance?" She asked him. Lindsay had figured it out earlier that he was teaching Christine. The musical style she portrayed strongly matched with his phrasings and interpretations.

"Yes," he said slowly. " _Hannibal_ is a fine opéra." His eyes rolled up gradually to the ball of light, he was attempting to work it out in his mind how it could exist. He was curious as to what tricks and methods she had used to accomplish it.

"It is not a real opera." Lindsay informed him. His eyes flashed as he looked back down at her.

"And what do you know of opéra?" He asked her coldly. He was not accustomed to this manner of defiance, no one had challenged him in years.

"The opera titled _Hannibal_ is not real." She said. Lindsay had reflected over her continuous schooling over music and _Hannibal_ was not among it. The famous Opera House, Palais Garnier, had produced major productions that were still preformed today. She had never heard of _Hannibal,_ not by another company or anything on tours. There was no orchestral score to it or anything that was studied in modern times.

 _"_ Perhaps in London. I suspect you will say the same for _Il Muto_ and ..." He trailed off purposely, he wanted to see how far she would go.

"Neither is _Il Muto_ ," Lindsay continued on, "what other one are you thinking of?" She questioned him.

"Oh, I am quite sure you have not heard of it." He stated to her.

"Why? Is it only for the privy eyes and ears of your beloved Frenchmen?" She demanded to know. He fought through the urge to warn her to be wary for he did not care for her tone. He also neglected to correct her in that he had no companionship with the rest of France.

"No. I am its creator and no other _eyes_ _or ears_ have seen or heard it." He said harshly. Lindsay rather liked the quarrel they were having. Yet, she wanted to know more about the entirety as a whole.

"I suspect you have never heard of a man named Charles Garnier." Lindsay assumed.

"I have not. Is he a musician?"

"No, he is an architect, he designed this Opera House."

"The Opéra Populaire was not designed by anyone named Charles Garnier."

"This is the _Palais Garnier_!" She protested. There were countless documentaries and employees of the prestigious theater in Paris. Numerous shows and various performances had taken place within its walls and hundreds of thousands of people had ventured to it.

"No it is not. Perhaps in the dream world you are from, but here in the _real world_ there is no Opéra House called the Palais Garnier." He countered. He recognized her passion for her strong belief.

"The real world is where I am from!" Lindsay snapped at him. Both of their voices were rising in defense of their sides.

"Then the musicality of England is unbearably poor."

She glared at him and spat a response. "Who was the creator of this Opera House?"

"His full name was never announced, only his surname appeared on the old paper work; Leroux."

"Oh and did this Leroux appear on the operas _Hannibal_ and _Il Muto_ too?" Lindsay harassed.

"No, those contributions were made by a man named Webber." He remained collected despite her attempts to rile him. She did not counter him and so he continued on. "You should be mindful of the nature your words present themselves in, it is not always in the best interest of your health."

"Is that a threat, good sir?" She hissed at him, never missing a beat or opportunity.

"For your sake pray it never descends upon my mind." He warned her, his voice low. "I am not one to grant mercy."

"And here I thought you were becoming soft, kind sir." Lindsay teased. He did not regard her verbal attacks fondly.

"It does not do you well to patronize me, girl."

"But it does you well to terrorize the Opera House?" Lindsay jabbed at him. She realized that they were escalating dramatically and it was time for a change. She stepped towards him and said "Please hearty sir, until we come again into each others company." Lindsay moved closer to him and was barely avoiding brushing against him. Lindsay met his gaze with her own before she Disapperated with a purposefully loud crack that echoed down the walls.

The ball of light left its perch from the ceiling. It gently floated downwards to dissolve on the floor. It settled on the stone below and began to dim. It left no trace as it plunged the area back into darkness once more.

He was left alone in the stone passage way. She thought that in this game they played she was the holder of the ace, yet he would remind her of one thing; the house always wins. And he was the great master of the establishment she would fall to him. For the time being he would use her to the best of his advantages for he knew her secret.


	16. Magical Lasso

The hallway Lindsay appeared in was unoccupied. There was a dim light from the mounted candles on the wall. In her surroundings she could see the dark wood floorboards and the deep maroon colored walls. A white border traveled between them with weaving patterns. At the far end of the corridor there was a window that viewed only blackness. Lindsay turned to search for a staircase when screams called for attention.

She paced around the edge of the corner, the cry had been several girls in unison. Her wand was not drawn as she moved further down. A door was slightly ajar on her right hand side as she peered into it. Another horde of screams ripped through the air and she heard a gruff man's voice begin to sing.

 _"Like yellow parchment is his skin. A great black hole serve's as the nose that never grew."_

Lindsay dared to push the door open even more. Her hand was held tightly on the knob as her eyes glanced into the room. A man was in the center of the room wearing an old ill-fitted green cloak. Dispersed around the room were beds where frightened ballerinas cowered. The man used the cloak to mimic his movements and cast large shadows over the walls. He would spar at random areas of girls to get them to jump and shriek.

Footsteps approaching from the corridor forced Lindsay to fully enter the dormitory. Before anyone could find notice of her she cast the Invisibility Spell on the nearest object which happened to be an unused coat hanger. She reached out and grabbed hold of it which caused herself to become invisible. The poll was gold in color and stashed off to the side out of everyone's way. The man in the center of the room raised his hands up high to allow the cloak to fill out and appear to grant him a sinister image.

 _"You must be always on your guard, o_ _r he will catch you with his magical lasso."_ He continued along maintaining his same foul expression. He pulled out a coiled rope from his belt and waved it around to alarm the ballerinas. The lasso was tossed to ensnare a girl, her arms were pinned to her side as it began to constrict around her. Shrills sounds came from all of them as Madame Giry entered the room. In one swift motion she crossed the room and released the young ballerina from the trap and turned to face the man.

 _"Those who speak of what they know, find too late, that prudent silence is wise. Joseph Buquet, hold your tongue-"_ she slapped him across the cheek. _"he will burn you with the heat of his eyes."_

Madame Giry escorted him out of the ballet dormitory with his on rope wrapped around his neck. The only aspect preventing Buquet from suffocating was his hand positioned between the lasso and his skin.

The numerous ballerinas began to calm down after their fright from the chief stagehand. They started their preparations for bed and Lindsay had no intentions to see them proceed changing out of their costumes. She lifted the pole and shifted it closer to the door. Lindsay checked over her shoulder to see if anyone was looking in her direction, but no girl was. She slipped out of the older ballerina's dormitory and escaped into the cool hallway.

The light had faded away from the candles and in turn allowed for darkness to invade the corridor. Lindsay walked through it- resuming her search for a staircase. She passed over the spot where she had first arrived in the hallway. Lindsay traveled down the dark red walls towards the far window. The night time sky was too clouded to see any of the landscape around the Opera House.

She drew the short curtains to a close. The white lace on the lower half of the fabric was similar to the border on the walls. Peering through the window Lindsay could find the faint rays of the moon flowing out from the hazed fog. She moved away from the window and began to climb the staircase that was also at the end of the hall. Lindsay was discovering that the theater was a combination of a square and a horse shoe in shape. The stage was lodged in the very center of the space within the horse shoe, which made up the concert hall aspect. The square was everything else, excluding the auditorium. The offices, dormitories, entry way, etc.

Lindsay stepped higher on the ascending stairs. These ones were wooden, unlike the stone ones Mademoiselles Giry and Daaé had shown her earlier. She walked up several flights of them and passed through the floors of the Opera House. She was heading to the top floor where it would be the least populated.

The last step of the spiral was reached without any other interaction of any kind. The desolate area was deserted which allowed her to move at a free gait. Along the walls Lindsay began to check each door. She required a room to stay in for the rest of the night. Her boarding place did not need to be so large, she would only need a bed at the very least. She would prefer to have a water closet nearby if at all possible.

All of the spaces she encountered were small storage rooms which could not serve her purpose. They had built shelves into the walls and were mostly overrun with dust. On the outside wall she turned a faded gold colored door handle and stepped into a carpeted room.

The room had perhaps once been used as a warm up or practice one for the performers. It was more then a closet in terms of its size and furnishings. There was a loveseat fit for the time with a more traditional arch in the back and encompassing sides. The fabric was light beige in color with pink and red rose deigns covering it. The framework was from an oak tree and had been hand carved. Across the room from the loveseat there was a windowsill, embedded within it was another resting area. Lindsay crossed over the soft carpet rug to examine it. She saw it to be a bed contained inside of the nook and was pleased. She cleared the room of the dust with her wand and sealed the door with an enchanted lock.

She cast another spell to illuminate the room. Gas lamps began to brighten as her eyes adjusted. The flooring consisted of the dark sea green carpet that spanned from the door to the opposite wall where a fireplace was resting. The loveseat was on the west wall, far from the window bed. Long white drapes covered the window and below it lay a wide assortment of pillows.

Lindsay pulled out her umbrella from its concealment in her small bag. She transfigured it back into her broomstick and left it resting against the wall. During her travel time she had already changed her hat back to its original form. From the contents of her bag she retrieved clothing appropriate for nightwear. To her disbelief her typical clothing had been altered to that of the time surrounding her. What had once been a shirt and loose pants was now an elegant nightgown. Lindsay was not satisfied and found that nothing worked to return it to its normal state. She wasted no more time in her efforts to improve upon it and decided to just dawn it on.

She climbed into the bed and set her wand to rest on the wooden side stand. Before doing so she extinguished the lights and removed the pins from her hair. The tiredness had been growing on her as the hours drifted on during and after the opera and she longed for sleep. Lindsay glanced out the window and found relief in the soft comfort of the moon. The pale light relaxed her and lulled her to sleep. Just as she was slipping off into unconsciousness she had a vague thought that the best thing about the room was that there were no full length mirrors anywhere.


	17. The Morning Star

Light filtered through the curtains in soft yellow rays. Outside the window the fog had faded away into mist. The bright blazing beams arose over the peaks of the mountain range far off in the distance. The deep blue of the sky was being tapped into by the growing golden gleams. Flares of orange were streaming across the dawning scene. Streaks of pink were flecked out spanning on the horizon. The skyline of the terrain was stately marked against the beauty of daybreak. The first light of day was filling the dark pools of night. The waves poured against the blues and purples, washing over the glimmering stars. The glints in the shadowy sky were seeping into disappearing and with them they drank in the darkened air.

The lay of the ground below was increasing in visibility. The first rays touched down on the roof of the Opera House. Its durable walls were showered in the glory of the sun. Below the window pane lay the cushioned bed Lindsay slept on. Her eyes opened leisurely as she drew in the changing scenery. At the Slytherin Common Room in the grand castle of Hogwarts she resided below the surface of the earth. They had a view beneath the Black Lake unlike any of the other three Houses. Both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had high towers to which they called home. Hufflepuff had a basement, but it was nothing like her own Common Room. She had been told that the black and yellow House had views of rolling fields filled with dandelions and grass. Everything about the badger's abode contrasted with the serpent's realm. Where Hufflepuff was earthly and sunny Slytherin was dark and aqueous. The basement and dungeon varied further by their selections in furniture and decorations.

She rose from the bedside, realization washing over her, to remind herself all that had occurred. She truly was in France and in the capital city of Paris. Lindsay also recalled that it was 1881, which meant she was more than a century before her time. She began to speculate why and how she had come to be in this situation, this was beyond any level of magic she had ever heard of. Lindsay wondered if she was to live the rest of her life here in this setting rather then the one she knew best. Another possibility happened into her thoughts, perhaps she could venture to England and find her way to Hogwarts. She had her Firebolt and could reach the Ministry of Magic, though she was more trusting of the school.

Lindsay set her petite bag on the low ridding table in front of the loveseat. She shifted through the contents of it to locate her clothes and toiletries. The undetectable extension charm was recently rising in the amount of favor Lindsay held for it. However, she was only able to find a hair brush and even more French styled garments suited for the time. Lindsay knew that it held more items of her own but alas they did not appear at the time. She choose to not fret about it, after all there were more prominent matters at hand.

After she had dawned on her tiered green dress and laced her heels on Lindsay pulled back her hair. The dress was slim as opposed to the rather large basin like dresses, but calling attention was not sought out by herself. The tiers ran diagonal in the front over a "V" shape white fabric in the front. The rest was covered by the dark wine green. Black lace circled the edges of the dress as a trim. There was, thankfully, only a small bustle in the back with minimum drapery. The same black pattern covered over the folds. There had been a conscious effort to not wear the included corset. Lindsay was aware that the views of females had changed drastically over the years and one of the easiest ways to see it was with their fashion. In the era she had landed in everything was worn to accent the natural form of a lady and highlight it. She had no quarrels for her image to convince others, but rather her concerns lie with her manners entirely.

She wore a matching basque jacket, complete with a button up design. Underneath Lindsay sported a black shirt with a closed collar and riffles down the front like a male's tuxedo shirt. Finally she finished her hair by tucking it low to the left side of her head. Lindsay had spun it and coiled it to appear with light curls and a wavy ideal. She tucked her wand up a sleeve after transfiguring the magical bag into a piece of jewelry to wear around the neck. The broomstick would stay in the room, where it would be out of harms way.

Lindsay stood at the door to listen for anyone in the hall before she left it. When all seemed well she turned the handle and stepped out. It was just as it had previously been. No one was stirring about or hurrying to and from, it was something she very much appreciated. Once again the lack of being accustomed to the clothing of the day came over her. The dress was unsuited to her recent belongings and she knew it would be outrageous to show in jodhpurs or any other male clothes.

Greater revelations protruded into her mental state. The Muggle world as they knew it had not endured the First World War, they were a little over thirty years away from it and no one had ever imagined a Second Word War. Lindsay began to ponder if that was why she had come here, was there something grand that was in dire need of being for filled? Though she did know of the infamous notion that was constantly paired with time travel; awful things happen to wizards who meddle with it.

Following a different course of mind Lindsay also thought about what musical contributions they had not heard of. Igor Stravinsky's ballets _The Rite of Spring_ and _The Firebird_ , Gustav Holst's suite _The Planets_ , Antonin Dvořák's the _New World Symphony_ , not even all of John Phillip Sousa's marches could have been finished. She wasn't even sure that the _1812 Overture_ by Pyotr llyich Tchaikovsky had premiered yet. Lindsay found it a challenging task to imagine the musical repertoire without the works of Maurice Ravel, Dmitri Shostakovitch, or even Leonard Bernstein, in addition to all the others.

While musical thoughts occupied her, she had arrived at the bottom of the staircase. Lindsay was hungry and hoped to have the chance to manage finding some breakfast to eat. To the best recollection of her memory she traced the steps back to the kitchen. She would not be surprised if Monsieur Allard was already present or any other chefs. The hard work was bound to start early with the right members laboring over it. Lindsay was scarcely about to round a corner when she heard two hushed female voices conversing.

"What do you mean that you 'don't know where you were last night?'" The first girl spoke with apparent worry.

"It's like I told you, one moment I was in the Prima Donna's dressing room with the Vicomte de Chagny and the next I was back in the ballet dormitories laying in my own bed." Answered the other, who Lindsay recognized to be Christine Daaé.

"And you have no idea of where you were between the two places?" pestered Mademoiselle Giry, Lindsay concluded it was the two of them.

"I do not. After the Vicomte left all I can remember is a strange dream and the most beautiful voice." Mademoiselle Daaé replied, getting herself lost in the memory.

"That voice you're talking about was probably just a reflection of the performance you gave, which I heard received positive reviews."

"Yes, I do hope it pleased everyone."

Lindsay remained where she was as the two ballerinas headed back to their quarters. She gathered that the largest majority enjoyed Mademoiselle Daaé's role last night. The only ones who did not find joy in it most likely belonged to La Carlotta's own personal company. Lindsay knew even more that one individual held the greatest amount of pride and pleasure from it. She was starting to developing a sinister feeling of what would happen should the young soprano ever be removed or dare falter in his expectations.


	18. Opera Finances

Breakfast for Lindsay consisted of a croissant, an orange, two pastries, a handful of strawberries, and a mug of coffee. All of which she had taken from the theater's kitchens. The option of asking Monsieur Allard or another chef was unattainable to her, since she could not appear to him as the Countess or anyone else. It would be questionable as to why the Lady of Lyon was there so early and why she was down in the kitchen. In addition, Monsieur Allard was not yet present at the Opera House.

With her meal wrapped in a large formal napkin Lindsay left the kitchen and scoured the halls for a suitable location to eat. It needed to be a place where she would not be easily disturbed or discovered. After walking around she found an ideal place in an empty corridor. It was on the complete opposite end of the dormitories and reasonably far enough from the kitchens. She sat against the wall and unwrapped her makeshift parcel on her lap. The croissant was nice and fluffy while the pastries were delectably covered with powered sugar and chocolate drizzle. The strawberries were fresh and the orange was juicy. The coffee was unfortunately black, something that she was not accustomed to. Lindsay ate in silent while keeping alert for any sounds.

When she had finished with her meal she headed back to the kitchen where Lindsay planned to return the used coffee mug. However, when she arrived someone else was unlocking the back door. In the moment she saw it was one of the old fashioned doors that had the capability to open as an outward door and as a hinged window. She imagined it was beneficial during the bright summer months when a good breeze would be appreciated. Lindsay could also see it being used for deliveries and the entrance primarily used by the kitchen staff. With lightning fast speed she hurried to set the dirtied cup on the closest counter before dashing out of the room. Before she had thought to wash it and place it back on the shelf but that was not going to happen now.

She moved back to safer grounds and came to wandering the halls of the building. Lindsay found herself near the auditorium and took a glance inside. There were five levels to it, the ground floor, and four balconies. The balconies stretched along the whole wall of the theater in a giant U shape. At the ends of the balconies were the box seats. The boxes were stacked on top of each other. It was all seemingly quiet in the stage area so she turned away and continued on.

On the ground floor at the front of the Opera House there was a window. Outside Lindsay could see the cobblestone street and front settings of the establishment. Across the way there was an unopened store called, Cafe de l'Opéra. From inside she could see there were numerous outside chairs and tables some under a covered area. Lindsay could easily picture it as a popular place to congregate before the theater doors opened.

She extended her self led exploration to the rest of the theater on the stage right side. During her travels Lindsay noticed that each of the floors for the balconies had lavatories, gentlemen's on house left, and ladies on house right. All of the even numbered boxes were on this side of the place. The walls adjacent to the box seats were decorated with wall hangings of portraits and other artwork. They were all titled at the bottom and most of them were of famous performers or depictions of scenes from various operas. Some of them were even of well known French monuments.

At the back of the building another window showed her the back of the estate. There was a splendid garden below filled with several kinds of flowers and plants. There were eye catching colors of yellow and pink along with the more complimentary blues and purples. Lindsay could see a few pathways through the garden and she would not mind in the slightest visiting it later.

Entering the Grand Foyer, Lindsay could not help but notice the inhabitants of the Opera House were starting to awaken. Parlor maids were cleaning the tables and chairs, dusting and scrubbing away. She stood in the balcony where the central opening allowed her to see across to the other side and down below on the ground floor. Upon noticing the Vicomte de Chagny standing under her Lindsay began to walk in the direction of the marvelous staircase, admiring the surrounding decor. She strolled gently down the steps as the other patron caught sight of her.

"Ah, Comtesses, greetings on this fine morning." He called to her lightly.

"Vicomte, it is always a pleasure." She said formally as they approached one another.

"It is a great delight that we have crossed paths like this," he said to her. "for the Mangers and I are going to have a meeting to discuss the business of the place." the Vicomte said gesturing to the theater.

"Yes, the dealings and running of the Opera House surely do require the work of excellent skill." Lindsay confirmed.

"I am glad you feel that way because I would like to ask that you join us." He informed her. "As a patroness of the Opera surely you will want to have a say in its matters of affairs?"

Before Lindsay could respond Monsieurs Firmin and André entered the scene. The two of them were clad in grey and violet respectively. It contrasted the hazel tones of the Vicomte. The two of them sauntered in and were rejuvenated to see both of their beloved patrons.

"Ah, Lady Lyon, and Vicomte, how good it is to see both of you." Monsieur Firmin said to them. "I see you are here for our scheduled finance meeting."

"Comtesse, we were going to invite you but we were unable to find you again last night." Monsieur André explained to her. Lindsay assured them that it was quite alright and she harbored no resentment towards them or their work.

The four of them proceeded to the Manager's office which was up the stairs and off to the right, the opposite way Lindsay entered. Monsieur André held the door open for her and Monsieur Firmin offered her a drink. They each sat down and made themselves comfortable for the duration of their gathering. They provided them with a general list of what their donations were going to support and they involved them in the Opera House's events. The Managers were looking to add things in addition to the regular performances. The Vicomte was in the strong position for desiring evening balls throughout the season. He strictly wanted it to be solely open for the Paris aristocrats, not the general public. Neither Monsieurs had any quarrels with it. Lindsay proposed the idea of having the pit orchestra put on concerts just as the instrumental musicians. Neither Manager was opposed, but there were more smitten with the romantic induced thoughts of the Vicomte de Chagny. It seemed to Lindsay that they were seeking out a more social form of interactions where they would be able to meet more of the upper class, which would hopefully provide with more sponsors.

As the meeting progressed it became more and more clear to her that the Managers were more likely, if not guaranteed, to take the ideas that the Vicomte suggested rather than her own. There were times when she would recommend things that she knew to be a better solution or proposal when compared to the Vicomte's. But alas, they very nearly went with his every time.

Finally, after their long discussion there was a break. Lindsay almost bolted from her seat but she remain collected and poised. As the four of them left the gentlemen discussed a nearby place to go for lunch. When they walked out and down the stairs Monsieur Carriere was standing at the base of them. In his hands he held numerous papers and envelopes.

"My Lady, there appears to be a letter here for you." He called to her as she passed by. Lindsay stopped, who would write to her? She stopped at the last step, and looked at him. The Managers and Vicomte continued out the doors.

"I do not recall having my mail forwarded here." She said slowly.

"Well your Ladyship, it seems they already know you are here."

Monsieur Carriere had his hand outstretched offering the letter to her. She looked at it quizzically before giving him a brief nod and accepting it. The stage manager pardoned himself away and walked briskly down the corridor. She was alone.

Lindsay held the envelope in her hands before turning it over. A waxy seal was placed over the fold on the back. The letter was in a thick parchment paper and nearing yellow in its content color. The calligraphy was in red ink and sprawled across the front read;

 _La Comtesse de Lyon_

* * *

Author's note;  
I greatly enjoy reviews, thanks to everyone who has followed, made this a favorite, and/or reviewed this story. It means a high amount to me.


	19. Garnier

Since she had no letter opener on hand Lindsay decided to just tear it open with her finger nail. She walked over to one of the corridors while she pulled the paper out of the envelope. Against the wall there was a gold hued bench with dark wine colored cushions laying atop it. Lindsay sat down on them leaning back as she began to read. The same red ink that wrote the name on the cover waited underneath.

 _Dear Comtesse,_

 _What a day of surprises this is turning out to be. First I learn that there is a new patron for the Opéra Populaire, secondly that is not you, but the Vicomte de Chagny. But that ignorant fool is another matter. For your time here at the Op_ é _ra Populaire as the ever promising Comtesse de Lyon, you shall not hope to call yourself by any_ _predilection of an English name. Instead, you will present yourself to those closest to you as 'Erika Garnier'. No one is capable of questioning the authenticity of that name. Now, run along, you have much to do with your expanding scope of responsibility._

 _~ O. G._

She knew it was him. Even in a letter he seemed to exploit the false title of her nobility. Lindsay could only hope to guess who he was implying would be those closest to her. She willed it not to be the Managers. Rising from the bench she tucked the letter away in her dress. Lindsay stepped out from the side of the hall and reentered the Grand Foyer. Off to the left one of the entrances doors opened. A female stepped into the Opera House in a spring green colored dress. Lindsay watched as she began to walk in her direction. The female was elegant and extremely regal in her appearance. Her dress was pastel in color with tiers of white. On her head she wore a sun hat that had fresh flowers in it and tied with a green bow. The bustle of her dress spun down the back into a light train. Lindsay could not tell if she was to bow or curtsy.

"Good morning," she said, her voice moderate, "would you be so kind as to inform me of where the Managers of this theater are?"

"They just stepped out for lunch."

"Oh, what a pity. I came to renew my reservation on my box seats." She said to her. Lindsay had not the slightest idea of where Monsieur Carriere would be, and only the Managers knew how long they would be out for. "We have yet to be introduced but allow me, I am the Marchioness of Bordeaux."

"Comtesse of Lyon." Lindsay said in turn. The hierarchy ranking system placed the Marchioness one above Lindsay.

"While I wait for them to return would you care to join me at the cafe across the street?" The Marchioness asked her.

Seeing that she had no reason not to and it would probably be rude to decline, Lindsay accepted, much to the particular joy of the nobility. Lady Bordeaux led her out of the Opera House were they walked down the front steps. Lindsay realized it was her first time outside since arriving in France. They crossed the street in between horse drawn carriages. When they entered the cafe a waiter greeted them and Lady Bordeaux told him of her desire to be seated outside. To which she hoped Lindsay did not mind.

Their table was set for them and when she sat Lindsay saw a true view of the Opera House. It was magnificent work of art. She still believed it to be something other than the Opera Populaire. Drinks were served to them, and Lindsay was glad to see it as a coffee that had been filled with cream and sugar. Eclairs were severed to them with a plate of tiny sandwiches that had a toothpick in the center. While they ate the Marchioness questioned Lindsay about her presences at the theater, she explained her position as a patron and her fondness of music. The Marchioness was interested and told her how she was visiting from her residence in the south west of France. Over the course of their wait Lady Bordeaux described the land she knew best. Lindsay had no knowledge of how long a ride it had been, but the Marchioness showed no signs of tiredness.

When they were satisfied with their drink and cuisine the two of them made to head back to the Opera House. The payment of their dine was to be covered by the tab of the Marchioness. Lindsay was grateful for her kindness since she had yet to acquire any money of her own to use. They crossed at a break in the flow of traffic and coincidentally at the same time they reach the Opera House's steps so did the Managers and the Vicomte.

The five of them exchanged greetings and introductions. The Marchioness presented herself and the Managers greeted her to the Vicomte. They all continued inside where Lindsay saw Monsieur Carriere, Monsieur Reyer, and Madame Giry standing off to the side deep in conversation. At the noise the Managers made with their laughter the three of them turned to see the new entrances. Their party traveled over the recently cleaned floors.

"Pardon me, Monsieurs and Madames," Monsieur Carriere started. "who is playing the female lead in tonight's performance of _Hannibal_?"

"What do you mean?" Monsieur Firmin asked. Monsieur Andre led the Marchioness to his and Firmin's office where they could discuss her box seats.

"We had no lead soprano!" Monsieur Reyer cut in.

"La Carlotta has yet to return you mean?" Monsieur Firmin questioned.

"No one has seen the Signora since she departed from rehearsal yesterday." Madame Giry explained.

"What about Mademoiselle Daaé?" Firmin suggested.

"She will need to began preparations for the show immediately." Reyer stated.

"I shall see that she is ready." Madame Giry said and turned away to go find the young soprano.

Both Monsieurs Reyer and Carriere left to start managing their own departments. Reyer had to inform the chorus and work around Mademoiselle Daaé absence from the regular sopranos. Monsieur Carriere needed to start the preparations to factor in Daaé's lack of stage directions. It left only Lindsay and the Vicomte, Monsieur Firmin went to rejoin his fellow manager.

"Will you be attending this evening's performance, Comtesse?" The Vicomte de Chagny asked her.

"Yes, I will be." Lindsay confirmed. It was not like she had anything better to do.

"Excellent, I invite you to join me in my box seats. If it suits you." He spoke to her.

"O, it depends on if the Managers are seeking my presence or not."

"Ah yes, in that case please do join if you are allowed to be spared."

With their parting remarks the Vicomte left the Opera House speaking of other duties he had to attend to before the evening. Shortly after the Marchioness returned from the Manager's office and said a temporary goodbye to Lindsay. She expected to see the Comtesse again at the performance of _Hannibal._ At the show is where she would be introducing Lindsay to others of the nobility. The Marchioness spoke of how they were from various parts of the country. Lady Bordeaux also made it clear that they were all very much desired suitors for any high born lady in France, such as themselves.


End file.
